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MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


BY 

J. frank lanning. 

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“ Oh lands most strange, with thy perfumed zephyrs, 

Thy memories are most dear to me.” 

Elizabeth Aloysius O'Shea. 


RICHMOND, VA.: 
Williams Printing Company, 
Publishers. 




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Copyright 1905, 


J. Frank Lanning. 













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The good friends whose good wishes I 
carried with me on my long journey. 


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My Trip to Touth Africa. 


CHAPTER 1. 

CAPE TOWN. 

Nov. 6.—Word was passed along the deck this afternoon that 
land was in sight and the port rail was soon crowded with onr 
South African contingents, eager to catch a glimpse of their 
beloved “Land of Sunshine/’ and we were soon able to trace the 
blue outline of the dome-shaped foot-hills. There was an ele¬ 
ment of gladness and sadness in this sight of land. For more 
than a month this little company of pilgrims have been all and 
all to each other. We feel to-night almost as if the tears will 
come when we part company to-morrow. I have given and been 
given the solemn assurance that “We must ‘keep in touch with 
each other, old man/ ” but I know how quickly these “ship 
friendships” fade. In another forty-eight hours each one of us 
will have taken up the grind of life. The good ship “Koenig” 
and her pleasant family will be packed away in the lumber room 
of memory, but I am sure each one of us will recall some event 
years hence which will bring before us the face and form of some 
one made dear to us by companionship on this voyage. Cer¬ 
tainly I will often think of Archer and recall his delightfully 
told stories of jungle life in Central Africa. My good friend 
Wurker, and his quaint German wit, over our nightly glass of 
Muncheuer and game of craps at a “ha ? penny fade,” and just 
when this picture comes up I will see Hoyer, the Norsman of 
the company. He was always in the crap game, and one would 
have thought his future in this world and the next depended 
upon his winning the shilling, which was usually the table 
stake.* 

And the ladies—God bless them—but I must be careful, for 

♦Some weeks later in the drafting room of the Roodeport Deep Mines 
out-side of Johannesburg, and at first I thought he was into another crap 
game, for the same tense earnestness was in every line of his interesting 
face. 




6 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


somewhere back in the “Vatterland” there is a certain little 
woman who might call on me to answer some awkward ques¬ 
tions if I say too much about them now or think too much about 
them in the future. But they were charming, every one of 
them, and perhaps one or more of them will recall the old days 
on the “Koenig,” and it may be, in speaking to some friend 
about them, say: “There was a ilttle old stupid man on board, 
but he could dance, and I used to enjoy being on the floor with 
him, only he nearly squeezed the breath”—but I think I better 
not try to finish this speculation. After all, they may never 
think of me again! 

A glorious moon lit up the bay as we made our way slowly 
into the channel, and at 2 A. M. we dropped anchor. I stayed 
on deck for some time, as the scene was a rare one. The great 
table mountain back of the city inspired me with a feeling of 
awe, so black and grim did it appear in the bath of moonlight 
all about it. The shore has a sweep almost equal to the Bay of 
Naples and in the semi-darkness resembled it very muck. I 
stopped in the chart room as I came below and was much im¬ 
pressed by the thought that I was at the end of the earth, and 
out beyond was the unknown sea. My mind reverted to my 
boy-time romances, and I went to sleep wondering if, somewhere 
out there upon the trackless water, Old Van der Decken was 
still trying to drive the Phantom ship against the ceaseless head 
winds his blasphemy had provoked. 

I was on deck this morning to find everything in the way of 
surrounding country blotted out completely by a heavy fog. This 
turned into a downpour of rain while we were at breakfast, and 
the unfinished mole at which we were docked presented about as 
dismal a picture as Georgetown, S. C., would under the same 
conditions, and there was just about the same number of no¬ 
account niggers as would be found at the latter place. After 
most courteous treatment by the Custom House (New York 
ditto, please note) friend Wurker and I got into a cab (also 
Southern in general appearance) and drove into the city. The 
hotel was fair, but I would hardly consent to pay sixteen shil¬ 
lings ($4) per day for the same accommodations anywhere ex¬ 
cept Albany or Troy, N. Y. In fact, I looked up the name and 
was surprised to find it was not the “Ten-wix” or “Beensore.” 
The sun came out at noon and by 1 o’clock a howling wind- 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


7 


storm was carrying clouds of dust swirling through the town, 
which made me wonder if I was not on the lake front in Chicago 
on one of the rare days there when it does not rain or blow too 
hard for people to go out. Most of the afternoon was spent in 
the Consul’s office getting information and arranging for pass¬ 
port and permit (enter permit) from the Government official 
for me to visit and transact business in the Orange River Colony 
and the Transvall. In the evening Wurker and I went to a 
vaudeville show where they advertised M’sell a Eloise Jaiin- 
seneki” and her wonderful troop of Virginia Pickininnies. 
Eliza Johnson was from Virginia all right, hut her pickininnies 
came from Cape Town or the Karoe, and they were about the 
most stupid aggregation I ever saw outside the “Bijou.” This, 
together with a poisoned atmosphere, thick with the stench of 
cheap American Sweet Caporal cigarettes, drove us into the 
street before half the show was over. After a little walk we 
came back to the hotel and to our rooms for the night. It was 
somewhat strange not to feel the floor “lift,” and hear the swash 
of waves, after thirty days of these conditions. A feeling of 
homesickness has come over me to-night, the result of a realiza¬ 
tion of the distance I am from my loved ones, and perhaps a 
lingering sadness because of my recent farewell to my “Com- 
panie de voyage.” 

This morning a party of the ship’s company boarded the tram 
car for a ride over the famous Victoria road to Cramps Bay, 
and it was a ride long to be thought of. The day was simply 
perfect. The land seemed to smile and the sea literally danced 
in the radiant sunlight. Our good ship had sailed and her place 
at the mole had been taken by a freighter, and so she has gone 
out from our lives, but other interests are awakened, and she 
only came in for a passing thought. She was afloat somewhere 
out there on the beautiful ocean and a “God speed thee” came 
into our minds as we mentally bade her farewell. We skirted 
the foothills of the Lion’s head, passed giant boulders big as a 
house, which looked as if a touch would send them down upon 
us, and we tried not to think what the result would be. Then 
came the glorious view of Camp Bay, with its wonderful color 
effects in the shallow water, enhanced by the snow-white surf as 
it broke amid the great boulders which ages ago had tumbled 
into the sea from the black mountains behind, and have been 


8 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


rounded and made smooth by the constant beat of the endless 
waters. Those boulders are thrown together in the wildest con¬ 
fusion, and when the tide is out they afford a playground for 
the people of Cape Town. We spent the morning there but my 
eyes kept turning longingly to the Lion head, with its grim front 
of perpendicular rock facing the sea. I felt I just had to get up 
there, although I was told it was considered a dangerous climb. 
The desire soon got the better of me altogether, and I inspired 
Wurker to essay the task. We bade good bye to our friends and 
were soon “toiling up the way.” The firsst 1,500 feet was 
rather easy climbing for one accustomed to it, but Wurker had 
never “hit the trail” before, and when we struck the ‘real work” 
his interest began to fag. It certainly was a forbidding looking 
proposition. I knew there was a trail somewhere, and that it led 
to where chains had been fixed to help the ascent, but we could 
not locate it. I decided to make a dash for the summit anyhow, 
and managed to get about 100 feet from safety, with Wurker 
in wild-eyed terror about 30 feet below me. I was “stuck” and 
was mightily pleased when Wurker called up to me for “Gott in 
Himmel come down”; that he had 60,000 marks to spend before 
he died and he did not want that amount invested in a tomb¬ 
stone. I looked at him compassionately, and said: “Can’t you 
make it, old man ? The worst is over.” I know he would not 
like to see his reply in print, so I will forget it. I was fast get¬ 
ting into a blue funk and was more than grateful to him for 
giving me an excuse to come down, but I was dead set on making 
the ascent, and after getting Wurker pleasantly settled in the 
shade of a rock, I made another attempt alone. This time I was 
more fortunate and was soon “shinning” up perpendicular rock 
faces and pulling myself up by chains which had been fixed to 
help poor climbers like myself to the summit. Two or three 
times I felt a desire to be down by the rock with Wurker, for the 
awful silence was about me and the utter “aloneness” which 
comes to one on a mountain top, and everything was forgotten 
save this one desire. Then came the final effort. Up over a 
wedge-shaped rock about two feet wide, with a sheer fall of 
some thousand feet on one side and the same of hundreds of feet 
on the other, and I was up. What a scene of splendor lay be¬ 
neath me; the death-like silence of the landside of the mountain 
was not even broken by the chirp of an insect, but as I leaned 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


9 


over the cliff facing the ocean the “song of the sea” came up to 
me in music as grand as ever came from the organ pipes of St. 
Peter’s. And the color scheme—how wonderful it was! The 
grand sweep of Table Bay, with its beach of snow-white sand, 
the town with its white houses and blue trees (the foliage of the 
trees as seen from here are not green, but blue, and are a dark 
olive when seen near by), back of the town the gloomy face of 
Table mountain accentuating the beauty of the town and bay by 
its uncompromising aspect. The mountain top is perfectly flat 
and overhangs, leaving a sheer drop of more than a thousand feet 
in places. Whilst I was feasting my eyes upon the scene the 
picture was made complete by a white cloud settling upon the 
mountain top and “spilling over” like a Niagara of snow. At 
first, filmy as a bridal veil, showing the rock face beneath, no 
longer black but purple and beautiful beyond words. In a few 
minutes Table Mountain had disappeared and there was only 
a great white cloud hanging over the city. Then I turned to 
Camps Bay, that “gem in water color” (no joke intended), and 
it called to mind a like picture I had looked down upon from 
the cliffs of Capri twenty years ago. There was the same shad¬ 
ing from the deepest blue to the palest green, while the surf 
rivalled the clouds above in whiteness. I lay flat on the rock, 
head and shoulders out over the edge, drunken with the beauty 
of the scene, unconscious of the flight of time and the fact that 
I had had no lunch. When I became conscious once more the 
red rays of the setting sun had given both sea and mountain a 
rosy glow, whilst the twilight shadows had begun to gather in 
the “Kloof.” It was a case of hurry if I did not want to spend 
the night on the mountain or pay for my pleasure with a broken 
neck. I lost no time in making the descent and boarded the car 
at the foot of the mountain just as the stars began to twinkle. I 
got to the hotel to find Wurker organizing a relief party, think¬ 
ing I had met with some serious accident. He was mad as a wet 
hen when he found there was no chance for him to win glory, 
but my enthusiastic account of the trip during our dinner to¬ 
gether inspired him and we will make the ascent to-morrow. It 
is a legal holiday, the King’s birthday, so I cannot do any busi¬ 
ness and I cannot think of anything that will afford us greater 
pleasure. I regret the loss of to-morrow, for I feel it is about 
time I was beginning to tell people about “the only Babbit metal 


10 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


on earth.” Sea voyages and mountain climbing are all very 
well as a side issue and very delightful, but I must see that the 
wheels of commerce run on cool bearings, and that the original 
package bears the stamp of U. S. A. 

Herr Wurker and I made the top of the mountain yesterday 
and were amply repaid for our effort. To-day I have been kept 
busy trying to get my papers straight so that I can go through 
the country unmolested. Old “Kurnel” Bingham, the Consul, 
has gotten me half scared to death with his talk about fifty 
pound fines and indefinite imprisonment if all the forms are not 
filled out and duly witnessed and recorded, and the attendant 
fee paid in. (By the way, I think this is the most important fea¬ 
ture of the whole blooming business.) The old Kurnel is from 
Kansas, and I think he has a farm out there that needs fencing. 
Then, too, I saw his clerk looking wistfully at an automobile 
to-day. 

I have talked myself breathless to-day trying to make these 
people believe that there is only one Babbit metal on*earth, and 
that I am here to sell it, but they seem to have heard the same 
story before, even down here, and they all balked badly when I 
suggested sending down a carload or two to each one of them. 
They seemed to think it would be safer for them to try a hundred 
weight or so at first, and if it would run a trolley car 150 or 200 
thousand miles on a set of motor boxes they would talk to me 
about a half ton order when the streets of Cape Town were 
paved with asphalt. I could not see wherein the connection was, 
but inferred that my chances to get a salary increase on my busi¬ 
ness here were somewhat slim. However, I got samples in with 
both the Cape Colony Railroad and Cape Town Tramway Com¬ 
pany, and the metal must work out its own salvation. They 
have a splendid system of tramways here. The cars are well 
built, the roadbed well kept, and the whole equipment seemed 
to be quite up-to-date. The Cape Colony Railroad have their 
shops here, and they will compare favorably with the D. & H. 
shops at Green Island, or the B. R. & P. at DuBois. In fact, 
the whole town is progressive, and unless the shipping industry 
is carried to Durban it will become a great commercial center. 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


11 


CHAPTER II. 

BY RAIL TO KIMBERLY. 

I left Cape Town last night at 8 :15 for a ride of forty hours, 
and I entered upon it with fear and trembling, hut I am glad to 
say my fears were not realized. True, we were not on the Chi¬ 
cago Limited or the Twentieth Century Special, but all told it 
was very fair. The seats were well upholstered with leather, and 
the train was vestibuled. At 11 o’clock I put my coat under 
my head and my rug over me and went to sleep. When I awoke 
this morning we were in the midst of a sand storm. The view 
was completely cut off by the swirl of dust. I washed up a 
little, and at 8 o’clock the train stopped at some kind of a 
“fontien” (Maggersfontien) for breakfast. We got off and had 
a very good cup of tea and a chop. The bread and butter, how¬ 
ever, would make one forswear them both forever. I tried to 
analyze the bread, but gave it up. The only ingredient I was 
certain of was the yellow clay. The butter was quite beyond me. 
It is cold this morning, and I was near about frozen during the 
night, hut it will doubtless he hot enough before the day is 
ended. Maggersfontien is a funny “city.” There are three or 
four tin huts, one tin house, and the station and refreshment 
room combined. The latter is a very fair structure, built of 
stone, and quite well built, but oh! the desolation. Hot a green 
thing to he seen; not even a cactus, and that will grow almost 
anywhere. The station-master told me they had not had one drop 
of rain in the section for two years. It is even more desolate than 
a desert would he, because there are some evidences of vegetation 
having been, hut now, alas, no more. Even the stones look 
blighted and sort of sun-struck, as it were. They call this the 
“Karoo,” and somewhow the name fits, for it has a desolate and 
lonely sound. 

The mountains on either side of the railroad and the many 
ridges of rock and kopje look as if they had recently been swept 
by some fierce volcanic storm like that from Mount Pelee or 
Vesuvius at its worst. As we moved farther into the “burnt 
district” the level country assumed the appearance of the bed of 
a stream, down which an awful flood had swept and subsided. 


12 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


Round river bed stones, large and small, literally covered the 
earth, and there did not seem to he soil enough for even the 
“root of evil” to find a hold upon. In places I noticed what 
seemed to be a bunch of dried brush, full of vicious-looking 
white thorns. This, I presume, is the Mimossa, and is a most 
beautiful flowering tree in the spring time, provided, of course, 
there is any water. Then it bears an exquisite yellow blossom, 
and the whole earth becomes laden with its perfume, but now it 
looks like the very leafless skeleton of the flower kingdom, and 
the white bonelike thorns bear out the illusion. 

We have been steadily climbing up the side of the platteau, 
and the desolation becomes more desolate as we move on. I 
noticed a new evidence of former life just now in the form of a 
wild sage bush, or what looks like it, dead, of course, but the 
guard tells me it is the famous Karoo bush, and that sheep will 
thrive upon it even in its present state, and that when the rains 
come (if they ever do) cattle of all kinds literally flourish upon 
its foliage. A party with us has lived here for some years, and 
he tells me that before the war this place was a rival to Texas as 
a stock country. 

About 3 o’clock we crossed the bed of a one-time river (the 
Modder). Its sides were deep and gave evidence of having been 
a fine stream at one time, but it looked like the balance of the 
land now, baked dry to the center of the earth. We saw here 
the first of the famous block houses, a chain of which stretched 
from here for twelve hundred miles across the wilderness. What 
an undertaking it was to construct them; and what devil’s work 
it must have been to garrison and defend them. These so-called 
block houses, I find, are in most cases well built; frequently of 
well cut stone, and the Lord knows they had material enough at 
hand. Farther on I noticed cases where stones were not to be 
had, and the miniature forts were built of sand-filled coffee 
sacks, with the usual conical roof of corrugated galvanized iron. 
We frequently saw a significant pile of stones standing nearby 
a block house, and knew it marked the lonely grave of some one’s 
loved one. Some home in “Merrie England,” although well 
watered and well shaded, is to-day quite as desolate as this piti¬ 
less, sun-baked Karoo, where the body of the loved one lies. 
Surely there never was a more suitable place for war and its hor¬ 
rors than here. Everything is in keeping. 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


13 


When our train pulled into Beaufort West, we found it quite 
a smart little town of about five hundred. The divisional ter¬ 
minus of the road is here, and there are a number of well built 
cottages; quite an imposing spired church, a public library (not 
so imposing), three trees, green trees , nine blades of grass, and a 
passion flower vine. The nine blades of grass have a high, 
barbed wire fence around them, and they tell me four niggers 
stand guard with shot guns, day and night, to see that no harm 
befalls this, the pride of the town. Shortly after leaving Beau¬ 
fort we wound around the foothills and came into what evi¬ 
dently had been a beautiful little valley. There was quite an 
imposing farm house here, and the greatest quantity of cacti. 
There was one growth of the prickly pear that must have stood 
thirty feet high. Just as we passed the house a flock, or drove, 
or bunch (I do not know which is correct), of ostriches gave the 
train a race for perhaps half a mile. Gee whiz, but they can run. 
I counted thirty-four in this bunch, and saw odd lots of from 
two to seven during the balance of the day. I never knew what 
made the ostrich feathers curl so beautifully before, but it is all 
plain to me now. This heat would curl cast iron casing. Marks 
of civilization began to show everywhere toward evening. I saw 
quite a number of goats, and some more goats, about five in the 
evening, as we passed over to the station. The latter proved to 
be donkeys, but I declare I thought they were goats when I first 
saw them. They were the most minute beasts of burden I ever 
saw. 

I was standing on the rear platform watching the sun go down 
when my attention was drawn to a group of Kaffirs. I turned 
the glass upon them and discovered that it was a funeral. Just 
then the train stopped for water, and I caught the sound of the 
weird chant as they lowered the body. The sombre group, the 
mournful wail, the desolate landscape with its background of 
yellow sunset sky and yellow kopje, is enough to give one a case 
of the blues that will last for a month. 


14 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


CHAPTER III. 

KIMBERLY. 

I thought it was God-forsaken yesterday as I looked out over 
the scene of the Kaffir funeral, but it was a blooming flower 
garden compared to my surroundings when I awoke this morn¬ 
ing. A sandstorm was raging, and not even a hill to break the 
dead level monotony. I tell you—well, I was going to say, I 
would not care to live here, but I can write something more sensi¬ 
ble. Surely no one would make this their home unless they were 
afraid of being found. What a place this would be for the 
Youngers of James brothers, for no one would go far into this 
country merely in search of a criminal. For my part I would 
stand trial for the foulest murder rather than face this land of 
blight. We had breakfast at another fontein. They are all 
fonteins here, but devil the drop of water is there at any of 
them, except what is pulled up out of the earth with a Yankee 
windmill. And this same breakfast will live in my memory for 
man y a day. Just while I think of it, let me tell you that I have 
been able to feast my eyes on a familiar sight from time to time. 
At every little station I found a glaring advertisement of Mel- 
lin’s Food, Hennesy’s Three Star Brandy and Hestle’s Milk. At 
11 o’clock we reached Kimberly, and found it just a little less 
attractive than the Karoo. 

I called on the American Consul yesterday evening. He is 
also Assistant General Manager of the De Beers Mines, and he 
arranged for me to visit the mines and works of the entire plant 
to-day, which I have done most thoroughly. I called on Mr. 
Williams this morning and he gave me a sample order for Bab¬ 
bit, which, with the prospect of seeing the great diamond indus¬ 
try, put me in quite a pleasant mood. 

The diamond mine formations are most curious. They are 
regular chimneys bored out by some gigantic explosions in the 
lower world. These explosions have torn their way up through 
a strata of granite over two* thousand feet in thickness, making 
regular funnels, some two or three hundred feet in diameter, the 
sides of which are almost as smooth as if they had been bored 
out by some oil well supply company’s machines, only the flow 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


15 


of wealth from this “pipe” is infinitely greater than ever came 
from an oil well. These funnels, or chimneys, have been filled 
with a heavy blue clay that has been forced up from below, and 
it is in this formation the diamonds are found. This clay is 
almost as hard as rock, owing to the enormous pressure that it 
has been subjected to, but it disintegrates under the action of 
the sunlight. We went down into the Kimberly mine this morn¬ 
ing and spent four hours literally in the bowels of the earth, for 
we were nearly three thousand feet below the surface. It was as 
weird a scene as I ever looked upon. There were over seven 
hundred naked savages at work down there, and to see some half 
dozen of these black imps emerge from a blacker tunnel that has 
been cut into a still blacker wall, was enough to give one the 
creeps, not to mention the rumbling sound of a blast, with its 
attendant rush of air, which made our candle flicker and some¬ 
times go out and leave us in utter darkness; and all this fol¬ 
lowed by a quiver of the earth that brought to mind the fact 
that some billions of tons was between me and God’s blessed 
sunlight. Then there was the rattle of rock or earth, as it was 
sent down a chute to one of the lower levels; the grind and groan 
of the ore cars moving along the dirt-clogged rails to the shaft; 
the crash of the dump, and the clatter of the empty car as it 
adjusts itself automatically and is caught by the endless wire, 
hurried back into the gloomy passage, filled and sent again on its 
journey to the shaft. I stood and watched several groups of 
natives at work drilling for blasts and was much interested. The 
majority of them seemed to be utterly void of any sign of mental 
activity, although the expression on their faces was rather pleas¬ 
ing, and there was no evidence of discontent. In fact, I have 
been told the De Beer people deal most humanely with their 
natives, and have no trouble whatever with them. I was im¬ 
pressed, however, by the silence of these people as compared with 
our Southern negro—the latter makes a noise of some kind 
whenever he is doing anything. He will even whistle softly 
when he is out on a hen house raid, but I did not hear a sound 
from one of the natives during the four hours I was in the Kim¬ 
berly mine. I came up at noon, and after lunch visited the 
works where the separation takes place. There is a vast com¬ 
pound enclosure of perhaps one thousand acres, and the clay 
from the mine is spread here and turned from time to time dur- 


16 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


ing a period of some fourteen days. By that time it is suffi¬ 
ciently dried to pass through the crusher without clogging the 
machine, and is then carried into the mill, sent through the 
crusher, caried by bolt conveyor to the great circular vat, in 
which a stream of water is pouring and a series of paddles are 
revolving. This makes a regular slim, which is let off into a 
sluce, flushed with more water and carried over the vibrators. 
These vibrators consist of frames about five feet square, covered 
with a thick coating of “Albany grease.” These are placed at 
an angle of some 30 degrees, and kept in lateral motion. As the 
slime passes over the frames the diamonds and other precious 
stones are caught and held by this coating of grease. I was al¬ 
lowed to “harvest” one of the frames and gathered eleven fine 
stones. Later on I was permitted to amuse myself by lifting 
my hands full of diamonds and letting them run through my 
fingers as old Gaspard did the gold in the “Bells of Corneville.” 
The process of gathering the stones is very simple and the source 
of supply absolutely unlimited. There are several of the so called 
“pipes” or “chimneys” opened up and known to be very rich. 
They tell me if the known deposits were worked to the limit 
that diamonds would be so cheap that our Chicago aristocracy 
and the Standard Oil magnates would feed them to their chick¬ 
ens while the Bowery barkeeper would wear double-breasted vests 
and use “ten carat whites” for buttons, nothing less. But the 
De Beers Company literally “owns the earth” down here and 
they will continue to limit the output so as to net their stock¬ 
holders ten thousand pounds sterling ($50,000) daily. The two 
mines in operation will produce an average of forty-two hun¬ 
dred carats for each day in the year. I was just thinking what 
would happen if I owned it! My old friend, John D., would 
surely have to move over to the East side. There would not be 
room enough on Broadway for both of us. bTo diamonds are 
cut or sold in the rough down here, and the cut stones are worth 
about ten per cent, more than in London or Amsterdam. Every 
precaution is taken to prevent stones being stolen by the natives, 
and this precaution has been reduced to a science, for the offi¬ 
cials are dealing with the most expert thieves in the world. The 
natives are brought in on a six months’ term of service, and dur¬ 
ing that time are not permitted to go beyond the compound, and 
cannot even speak to relative or friend. 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


17 


When the term of service is ended they are each given a lib¬ 
eral dose of croton oil and turned out the next day to spend the 
12 or 15 pounds that has become due. This is not a signal for 
a riotous time, like pay day in the coal fields of West Virginia, 
when they work short-handed for a few days, until they can fill 
the places of the “razor victims.” Down here the natives can¬ 
not purchase liquor of any kind at any price, and the result is 
the Kaffir uses his savings to purchase a new wife or an extra 
cow. In time he can retire from active life and enjoy the luxu¬ 
ries produced by the wife or cow, as the case may be. A Zulu 
or Kaffir with ten wives or one hundred cattle (the ratio varies 
according to the weather) would not change places with King 
Edward, and if he happens to own both—well, he has reached 
the danger point, and would own a red necktie and a yellow vest 
if they could be gotten on the veldt. The day has been one of 
the most interesting I have ever spent, and Mr. Williams kindly 
gave me a handful of pretty garnets as a memento of my visit to 
the great Kimberly mine. 

This is Sunday, but as I must pull out for Bishoff this after¬ 
noon I put in the morning going over the battle ground made 
famous by the siege of Kimberly. I examined with much in¬ 
terest the gun built here in the De Beers works for the defense 
of the town. It was designed by a Mr. George Be Bram, an 
American, by the way, and the Ordinance Department at Water- 
reliet never turned out a more effective weapon. Even the finish 
of it is remarkable, when you think of the disadvantages they 
labored under. It seems like the irony of fate that Le Bram 
should have been killed just a few days after the gun he built, 
and that saved Kimberly, was completed, but such was the case. 
A shell from the Long Tom of the Boers came through the wall 
of the Grand Hotel and burst in his room, killing him instantly. 

The condition of the people here during the four months’ siege 
must have been pitiful. They tell me that 98 out of every 100 
children under two years of age died during that time, and the 
death rate among the older people was fearful. The town itself 
does not show any evidence of the bombardment, but that is not 
to be wondered at. The houses are one story affairs, except right 
in the heart of the town, and that has been built since the war. 
They, too, are scattered over a wide acre. A God-forsaken place 
at best. 


18 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


CHAPTER IV. 

ACROSS THE VELDT. 

Herr Wurker and I left Kimberly at 2:30 yesterday after¬ 
noon in one of the famous veldt postcarts, and reached Bishoff 
at 8 :30 P. M., where we put up for the night, but before finish¬ 
ing with Kimberly let me describe the hotel room we occupied. 
In the first place, let me say it was the “Gladstone,” and I don’t 
believe the Grand Old Man will ever rest easy in his grave so 
long as this place stands and bears his name. The hotel proper 
was full, so we had to bunk in one of the out-houses. In this 
were two cots (extra small size), one small washstand, a still 
smaller table, one chair of doubtful stability, and a candle. 
Cost of all this luxury with such scoff ( South American for grub) 
as we had served up, $4.86 per day. I also bought some post 
cards here at the rate of six and one-quarter cents each. I do 
not see how these people can get along on such small returns on 
their original investments. A glass of beer 24 cents, whiskey 
and soda 36 cents; the pencil I am writing with 12 cents, and 
everything in proportion. In fact, I am shy about drawing an 
extra breath, for I am sure if I got caught drawing it it would 
cost a quarter. But I am away from Kimberly and have my 
pocket-book left and a few loose coins, so I should be thankful. 

The postcart we came away on is one of the institutions here. 
It is a high, double-seated two-wheeled nightmare, drawn by from 
four to eight donkeys, with one of the ass tribe on the box to 
drive. We went along the first stage without seeing anything of 
interest except a few meer cats and ant hills, but when we 
changed donkeys the new team did not seem to please the other 
ass, and then began a series of the most awful oaths I ever 
listened to. I made a note of a few, so I could use them in case 
I should get desperate at any time. The first noticeable exple¬ 
tive, accompanied by the swish of a twenty-foot lash over the 
lead mule’s rump, would have taken the skin off a Harveyized 
steel safe if it had been an Harveyized steel safe; as it was, the 
mule only wagged his tail, but when the full force of the awful 
word “Unquar” struck him he got a move on quick. Then fol¬ 
lowed “Hoo,” “Chu,” “Hiat,” “Zook,” “Attah,” “Runt,” 


MY TRIP TO ^OTJTH AFRICA. 


19 


“Gish,” “Abtar” and “Ouck.” Occasionally he would use an 
awful unpronouncable word, but he was sparing with this, for he 
evidently was afraid it would cause a wreck. 

About 8 :30 we got into the city of Bishoff. It consists of a 
church, a hotel (may I be forgiven for this), about nine houses, 
and general desolation. Wurker tried to be funny here and said 
it was a pity they could not use “general desolation” for build¬ 
ing purposes. After we had looked over the room we were 
booked for the night in, I ventured on the remark that they evi¬ 
dently had in this particular case. The landlord, another li¬ 
censed robber, fixed up a lunch for us, consisting of cold meat 
of some description, boiled milk, last year’s butter and some 
bread. I asked the landlord why he boiled the milk, and he 
said, “to keep it fresh,” and Wurker turned to me and said: “It 
is a tern shame they don’t poil der butter.” The bread was a 
mystery for quite a while; in fact, until we left the town the 
next morning. We then saw where they were grinding up one 
of the kopje ; we already had discovered the Portland cement 
feature. 

I thought the outfit at Kimberly was fierce, but it was a sort 
of Windsor Palace compared to the den we had here. The fur¬ 
niture consisted of a pair of cots (they always put two cots in a 
room, and I believe would do so if it were only 32 inches wide; 
they would then have one on top of the other), an uncertain piece 
of glass nailed to the wall, a broken pitcher, cracked howl, and 
a wobbly chair. This room, the outfit and supper, lodging and 
breakfast (same as supper) cost us $5.25, no discount; but then, 
of course, we had the scenery. 

We were up and away with a flourish and a few “Attahs” 
and “Hiats” at 6 o’clock this morning, and this will he a day I 
will remember to the end of time. We have traversed 13 miles 
of country that for utter forlornness cannot be surpassed any¬ 
where, and yet I never spent a more interesting day. It was 
bitter cold when we started out, although the sun shone with a 
radiance that was simply dazzling, but it was all light and no 
heat. I got out my grip and put on everything in the way of 
clothing except my night gown, and then was near about frozen. 
About 11 o’clock I had begun to peal and at 1 o’clock I would 
have had exerything off, only Wurker said he was modest. But 
what a dream day it has been. Hundreds and hundreds of 


20 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


Springbob and Blesbok stood witbin a few yards of us until the 
driver would crack his whip, and then all we could see was a lot 
of yellow and white flashes disappear over the horizon. 

I thought a Texas jack rabbit could run, but compared with 
the South African Springbob he is a regular Republican truft 
busting reform, he is so slow. I have often heard of hitting 
only on the high places, and I saw it done to-day. We drove 
slowly past one bunch and I counted fifty-two before they broke, 
but when they got going they simply made a streak across the 
landscape. How they get around and over the countless thou¬ 
sands of ant hills in their wild run is a mystery to me. I was 
much interested in watching the antics of the little ground ani¬ 
mal known here as the meer cat. I cannot see why they call it 
a “meer cat,” for it is a meer squirrel, exactly like our gray 
squirrel except these little beggars have turned brown from bur¬ 
rowing into the red clay instead of knot holes. They have the 
broad tails and set up on their haunches, and no doubt would be 
glad to have a peanut thrown to them, for I do not know what 
they find to eat in this desolate land. There seems to be thou¬ 
sands of them and they serve a purpose, in that they break the 
dead monotony for the tired traveler. There is scarcely any bird 
life—a specie of plover, which is extremely dainty both in color 
and build, and a smaller bird, something like our wren. We 
distrubed a number of flocks of wild guineas and sent them scur¬ 
rying over the veldt to the accompaniment of their discordant 
cry, but we did not hear the “buckwheat” that is such a familiar 
call of the barnyard guinea. We also saw a number of strange 
birds with some beastly unspellable and still more unpronounce¬ 
able name, which were very interesting. They were feather- 
marked very much like the guinea b,ut were larger and the male 
bird had the most beautiful crown-like formation of feathers 
around the head. These birds were usually seen in pairs, and 
when disturbed would rise on the wing much like the prairie 
chicken, and when about 100 feet high would execute the wildest 
aerial gymnastics, acting as if their wings were broken. They 
would make a fluttering fall of ten to twenty feet and then sail 
downward. All the time they are in the air they give utterance 
to the most unmusical cry I ever listened to. Combine the voice 
of the Coney Island “herald” with a peacock that has a cold 
and you will have it near about. 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


21 


Picture in your mind an almost trackless waste, treeless, 
grassless, flowerles, with only the ant hills in the way of natural 
scenery and the skeleton of some slaughtered animal gleamly 
ghastly white in the glaring sunlight. These are relics of tide 
of war which so recently swept along this same trail to Bloom- 
fontein. 

It was altogether a strange world. After we had dirven for 
more than an hour, and were fully eight miles from Bishoff, 
one would have wagered any amount of money on the distance 
not being greater than a half mile. Then came the mirages, and 
how can I describe them? We would look out over a stretch 
of land where there was nothing but countless heaps of ant hills 
and a herd of antelope; turn the glance aside and look again, 
then, wonder of wonders, there would be a mountain towering to 
the clouds, its sides to the summit covered with a forest of the 
greenest of green trees; perhaps mountains and forests would 
he reflected on the placid bosom of a grand lake. Then again 
we would see a majestic river sweeping along between shaded 
banks, and where breaks would come between the trees we could 
see the sparkling water as clearly as I ever saw the waters of the 
Chesapeake Bay. Again we would see fine farm houses, with 
trees shading them all around, and a longing would come to us 
to “outspan” there and go to the spring house and drink milk, 
but when we would reach the point where all these beautiful 
things appeared we found nothing but ant hills. Mr. Murray, 
at Kimberly, told me those South African ants were a great 
people. He says they have regular United States armies in 
those dome-shaped structures; that they vote, have a protec¬ 
tive tariff and one specially progressive community is known to 
have a Tammany Hall organization, but Murray is Irish, and 
this is an Irish yarn. I never saw anything like these ant hills. 
They are from two to four feet high, and just the shape of a 
Kaffir hut. There are millions of them. We passed over miles 
of country to-dav; and as far as we could see these heaps were 
piled up, and often not more than six or eight feet apart. 

We passed the ruins of many farm houses, sometimes with 
only one wall standing; again the ruins would be only roofless. 
At one place the farmer had returned. A tent was pitched and 
he was busy rebuilding his home with sun-dried bricks one foot 
square. We waved our hands to him in salutation, but he 


22 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA- 


thought we were English and his only answer was an angry 
frown. Until nearly 4 o’clock we only passed three places where 
we saw a human being, and only one place where we could even 
get a drink of water. We were literally parched by this time; 
lips cracked and bleeding, eyes smarting and throat dry. 
Wurker said his face felt as if it did not fit him, and mine was 
the same, only I kept my tongue from my lips and they were 
not so badly split as his were. At 4 o’clock we came to a general 
store, and the first thing we saw was a sign that said “Alsop’s 
Beer.” Wurker threw me into a fit by saying, “Iss dos ein 
mirage” ? But it was the genuine thing, and it is needless to tell 
you we lost no time getting on the outside of a liberal supply. 
We were much refreshed, and at 7:20 we drove into the capital 
of the Orange River Colony. 


CHAPTER V. 

BLOEMFONTEIN AND THE O. R. C. 

Bloemfontein is like all these South African towns, only the 
people here have made some little effort to plant trees and make 
something of the town. It is rather a serious undertaking, for 
the beginning and end of everything here seems to be dust. The 
town is situated in a cup-like formation, with a series of kopje 
all around. Overlooking the town, on the face of one of these 
hills, the British encampment is located. There seems to be 
quite a force, to judge from the number of buildings, and the 
town was ful of the Kaiki. There are quite a number of im¬ 
posing shops here. Many of them show a beautiful line of 
ladies’ summer dress goods and some late creations from Paris in 
the way of millinery. 

A bed of a stream runs through the town, but the only evi¬ 
dence of a river now is one lonesome, green, slimy pool giving 
off miasma enough to kill a colony. I asked a man why they 
did not draw it, and he said they were leaving it for a “nest egg.” 
We found a very decent hotel here; fair rooms, good table, etc., 
and rested well after our 100 mile “trek” over the veldt. Prices 
are kept up just a shade higher than at Bishoff. I thought we 



MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


23 


had reached the limit, hut there is no certainty what will happen 
next in the way of prices in this country. Some great writer or 
thinker once said, “There is a reason for all things/’ and I figure 
it out this way: These people must have something, and as noth¬ 
ing else is available they have high prices. I might mention, 
in passing, that they seem to recognize their many shortages and 
do their utmost to make up for it in their one blessed preroga¬ 
tive. 

We boarded the train at Bloemfontein at 2:30 P. M. for 
Johannesburg, and in a little while we were clear of the blighted 
country and began to see a little green from time to time. At 
Brantford, Mr. Bosenthal came down to see us at the station, 
and it was a most welcome visit. He was shipmate with us, and 
a most charming fellow. 

About 5 o’clock this evening we stopped at Sand Biver. I 
noticed quite a pretty monument just a short distance from the 
station, and as the engine was taking water I walked over to 
look at it. I found it was erected to L. I. Seymore by his 
friends and comrades. On the face of one side is cut: “Greater 
love hath no man than this, that a man should lay down his life 
for his friend.” Seymore was an American engineer who lost 
his life in an effort to carry ammunition to the hemmed in 
forces at this point. I was fortunate enough to meet one of the 
friends and comrades on the train, and was entertained by the 
full story of the fight and rescue. Tears filled the eyes and 
choaked the voice of the narrator when he told of Seymore’s 
death. They have further honored him by changing the name 
of the station from “Sand Biver” to “Virginia.” The new sign¬ 
board was standing against the station wall and will be put up 
in a day or two. It is a desolate place, and little did he think 
when we left the wooded heights of Albemarle, with its green 
fields in the valley, below its song birds and restful home pic¬ 
tures, that his body would find its last resting place on the lonely 
veldt—instead of the Blue Bidge, with its shade and color, a 
rock-strewn and barren kopje; instead of the grass-grown val¬ 
ley and companionship of people, the sun-baked veldt, and his 
only companions the meer cat and the ant. I find my eyes get¬ 
ting moist when I think of it. 

I did not sleep well last night; the car was crowded, hot and 
dusty, and noisy and everything else that tended to discomfort. 


24 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


I got up at 3 o’clock and stood for a long time on the platform 
watching the wonderful picture of the heavens. Many of my old 
friends were shining with even an added brightness. The 
Pleides looked like stars of the second or third magnitude, and 
Orion was a perfect blaze. Vega shone like Venus when she is 
the Evening Star, and the Southern Cross swung in its wonder¬ 
ful circle. I tried to pick out some of my old friends among 
the stars I had known twenty years ago when I was in this hem¬ 
isphere hut could not locate many of them. Somehow the South¬ 
ern Cross does not look familiar. It seems to have been brighter 
then than now, hut perhaps my eyes have become dimmed by the 
years that have gone. I must not dwell on this or I will find 
myself growing sentimental and homesick. 


CHAPTEK VI. 

JOHANNESBURG. 

We reached Johannesburg at 8:30 this A. M. and found a 
room at Long’s Hotel. Outfit the same as described before, only 
we had the diversion of climbing four flights of stairs to reach 
our “clothes press.” Price one pound per day each, and I of¬ 
fered Wurker two shillings extra if he would allow me to get in 
and undress first so I could take off my shoes in the room. 
Wurker had to take his off on the outside, as there was not floor 
space enough for both pair. However, the menu was very fair 
and we will pull through all right, but Wurker says “Donner 
Wetter” every time we go up to our room. My utterances at 
the same time contain only three letters, but it is more expres¬ 
sive. I find the usual prices prevail here for everything, with 
perhaps a shade less than at Kimberly and Bloemfontein. 

This is a typical mining town of scattered and irregular 
houses, streets unpaved, and every puff of wind raises a cloud of 
dust that is simply blinding. I find conditions here a marked 
improvement over Kimberly, and no doubt this will be a great 
city some day. There are a number of splendid shops and 
several fine office buildings, both finished and in the course of 



MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


25 


construction. The iron frame work of one, nine stories high, is 
standing, and one would almost imagine oneself on Broadway. 
The post-office is an imposing structure, and there are three 
fairly good theatres. Shafts are sunk right in the city, and 
from my window as far as I can see the frame work of mine 
heads are in evidence. They, together with the whole mine 
working, make a picture just a shade less hideous than a coal 
mine, kulm hank and pit head. Everything is gold here. They 
think gold, talk gold, dream gold and would eat and drink gold 
if it were possible. This latter condition is most unfortunate, 
for it would he so much less expensive than beer and beer. 
Every one is here for the possible wealth that is to he gotten. 
Even Englishmen speak of the time when they can get hack to 
“God’s country,” meaning London, with its mud and fogs, and 
when that can he spoken of as God’s country you can form some 
idea of what this is. In view of the exorbitant prices paid for 
everything here, I was interested to know something of the sal¬ 
aries paid. I find bookkeepers get from $125.00 to $175.00 per 
month; salesmen from $150.00 to $500.00 per month; sales¬ 
women from $60.00 to $125.00 per month; skilled mechanics 
$5.00 to $7.50 per day; white labor $2.00 and black 50 cents 
per day. The cost of clothing, except shoes and stockings, which 
are somewhat higher, is about the same as in the States. Rent 
of room, unfurnished, $20.00 to $50.00 per month; furnished, 
$40.00 to $100.00 per month; a five-room cottage $75.00 to 
$125.00 per month; eight and ten room houses from $200.00 
to $500.00 per month; cabs, of the Bowery nighthawk type, 
$1.75 per hour, or $20.00 per day. There is a mule car line, 
with three horses to each car, across and around the city. You 
would think the old Jefferson Avenue line in St. Louis had un¬ 
loaded the stock they had, which was unfit for firewood and. old 
iron. Row, to ride across the city in one of these flying machines 
costs 12 cents, if you do it before sundown; after dark 18 cents, 
and between 11 and 12 P. M. 24 cents. But even here the law 
of compensation holds good, in that niggers are not allowed on 
them at any price. I wonder what our swell coons from the 
States would think if they got bounced off the street cars , and 
were not allowed to walk on the pavement, but had to hoof it in 
the middle of the street? Yet such is the case here, and the 
Mason and Dixon line does not run anywhere in the neighbor- 


26 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


hood either. Really the condition of the negro is so pitiful here 
that I am sorry for them. 

The Ricksha is one of the institutions of the place, and will 
interest the stranger quite as much as the mining industry and 
laundry hills. I mention the latter because my wash has just 
come in. It consists of 5 pair cuffs, 8 collars, 3 pair socks, 2 
shirts, 1 night shirt, 2 suits of underwear and 8 handkerchiefs; 
bill for same, $3.15. I asked the man on what basis he would 
settle and keep the bundle. He said he thought it would he 
about right if I would give him three shillings, as he might get 
ten shillings for the lot at auction. The Ricksha is a light¬ 
weight, two-wheel vehicle, with a pair of shafts and canvas top. 
The “boys” are mostly Zulus, and as a rule are men of the 
grandest physique; tall and straight as a Georgia pine, and the 
physical proportions are almost perfect. But the unique part 
of the whole outfit is the style of dress. A comic opera costumer 
could get creations here that would make his fortune. I had 
my photo taken in one yesterday and shall immortalize it by 
christening it “The devil in harness.” The boy was dressed in 
short white cotton pants and a sleeveless jacket of the same mate¬ 
rial. These garments were trimmed with a number of red bands 
about three-fourths of an inch wide around the bottom of the 
pants and arms and bottom of jacket. The pants had a further 
decoration consisting of a fringe of red bands attached to the 
bottom and hanging about one-half way down to the ankle. The 
leg proper is painted with hieroglyphics from the knee to the 
ankle. Around the ankle there is usually a number of copper or 
brass bands, or a string of shells. This latter ornament makes 
rather a pleasing sound as the boy runs along with “a fare.” 
The arms are free from paint marks and look as if they had just 
been oiled. Around the wrist will be found a leather strap 
quite often, but more frequently the regular Kaffir bracelet. I 
asked one of the boys why he had the strap around the wrist. 
His reply was the same as I have had from our own niggers 
many times, that is: “It makes me strong.” But the “piece de 
resistance” is the head dress. These are simply wonderful to 
behold. The boy I had photographed was rather modest, for I 
wanted people to see me as well as my team, but you will note 
the horns are there all the same. Many of them have great 
bunches of grass made up into regular vari-colored hay stacks 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


27 


and fixed upon tlieir heads. Then again there will be a piece 
of hide, with the hair on, fixed between a pair of horns and 
allowed to hang down the back. This is very picturesque, and, 
using these various schemes in combination, there are some 
decorations evolved that, as I say, would make a fortune for 
some theatrical costumer. 

This is Thanksgiving Day and is certainly a contrast to what 
they are having at home. In the first place, it is well into the 
summer season and the weather is quite warm. Instead of the 
leaden sky and the driving snow storm, the chill winds and win¬ 
ter desolation, we have enjoyed a sky as blue as ever bent over 
the Bay of Naples, and the recent rains have laid a carpet of 
the greenest grass to gladden the eye when one looks out over 
the veldt, but “it is not my own native land.” I would gladly 
exchange the blue sky for the leaden and the green grass for 
the snow-covered streets of New York if I could he with my 
loved ones to-day and enjoy a turkey wing and a pumpkin pie. 
Mr. Duncan, my mess-mate at the hotel, is in the commission 
business, and he furnished some special dishes in honor of the 
day. We had cucumbers, green corn on cob, new potatoes, and 
wound up the feast with a piece of watermelon that would have 
made a Georgia nigger show every tooth in his head. We had a 
jolly time at dinner and I recalled with much pleasure last year, 
when I was the guest of my good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Robin¬ 
son, of Liverpool. On both occasions a toast was drank to the 
Stars and Stripes because I was persent, and I in silence lifted 
my glass to the “little wife” awaiting me in Hamburg, to the 
“old sweetheart,” and my brother far off in Chicago, to the 
other brother in St. Louis, and my many friends in America, 
England and the Continent. May God be with them till we 
meet again. 


CHAPTER VII. 

PRETORIA. 

Wurker and I came to Pretoria Eriday evening, intending to 
stay until Monday, and thereby have plenty of time to see the 
place. Well, we started out this morning to drive out to “Won- 



28 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


der Bohm,” a wild fig tree of some note about 40 minutes from 
town. The Boer ex-Commander-in-Chief, whom we asked a 
rate from, informed us bis price was thirty-five bob (about 
$8.75) for the trip. I walked around the outfit, examining it 
carefully, and then said: “If you will repair the harness and 
give the wheels a coat of yellow paint, with red stripes down the 
spokes, I will take it.” The satire was entirely lost, as was also 
the trip to the tree. It was the sorriest looking rig I ever laid 
eyes on at any price, and surely no one would call this cheap in 
point of price. I noticed the driver had a plated collar button 
on in lieu of any further neck ornament, and it was the only 
thing about the whole outfit that had a commercial value. 

So far as the town proper goes, we saw it in about 30 min¬ 
utes after our failure to strike a bargain with the liveryman. 
Twenty-five years ago I thought Washington was about the “sor¬ 
riest Nation’s Capital” on the face of the earth, but Pretoria 
goes it one better. Just as the Capitol Building was all of 
Washington in those days, so also is the Capitol and Hall of 
Justice all of Pretoria. The streets look very much like the 
roadbed between Chase City and Boydton. (The road conn 
missioners had a row, and there had been no repairs made within 
the memory of the oldest inhabitant.) With the exception of 
a few patches there is not even a sidewalk. The few business 
houses look dirty and lifeless. We went out to Kruger’s old 
home, but could not work up any sentiment on the subject. I 
have no respect for a man who could kick up a row over such a 
God-forsaken country. 

Had I been in his place and the English had announced their 
desire to own it, I would have said, “Bless you, my children, 
make this your home always,” and then I would have gone off 
to some quiet place and rejoiced to think how I had evened up 
things with the “hated Englisher,” at least. If I had to live 
here I would want a monument at the very earliest possible 
moment, and I would specially request that my tomb be made 
dust proof. 

We went out for a walk this afternoon, and while we were out 
a storm came up. Before the rain began we had swallowed dust 
and sand enough to pan out seventeen pennyweights of gold, if 
it had been regular “reef product.” When we reached the hotel 
we were naturally very thirsty, and Wurker suggested a bottle 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


29 


of German beer. We did not ask the price, and when the bar 
keep handed him six shillings change out of a ten shilling piece 
I thought he would drop dead. He did not draw a full breath 
for three minutes and got purple in the face. As soon as he 
could speak he said, “I dink ve vill drink dis slowly.” 

We got up this morning quite early, and after breakfast 
walked down to Kruger’s old church. Service was going on, so 
we did not go in, but I noticed the old Dutch Reform style of 
seating the worshippers—the women on one side and the men on 
the other. Service was being conducted in Dutch, and from the 
style of the speaker I inferred that he was giving somebody the 
dickens, but I could not tell if it was the devil or the English. 
At 2:30 we boarded the train for Johannesburg, and I will 
never say an unkind word of the place again. After Pretoria it 
is like Hew York after Jersey City. 

There seems to be considerable excitement about the hotel 
because of the exploitation of a new diamond mine near here. 
The “exploiter” claims that he picked up a water bucket of 
“stones” laying around loose, and that the “Hew Primier will 
make the Kimberly field look like a tickey” (the English silver 
three pence), but I am not buying any stock in it.* 

There has been a thunder storm every evening since we left 
Bloemfontein. This evening one has come up to be remembered. 
Clouds had been gathering since noon, and just as we reached 
the hotel (about 5 P. M.) the storm let loose. Sharp flashes of 
lightning, followed instantly by peals of thunder which shook the 
very earth, and then the downpour of rain. The streets were 
flooded from house to house. The storm continued unabated 
until sundown, and then a scene was presented never equalled 
by anything like it that I have ever looked upon. The clouds 
broke in the west and a moment later they were a yellow blaze, 
with a stretch of the rarest blue along the sky-line. In the east 
the storm clouds were still thick and as black as ink, while from 
north to south, spanning the heavens and reaching to the zenith, 
was the most glorious rainbow ever beheld. Below the rainbow 
and down to the eastern horizon the flashes of lightning con¬ 
tinued to cut like swords of fire through the pall of blackness. 
I watched it until the last bit of color had faded, the last sound 

*It was from this mine the great 3200 carat stone was taken some 
months laetr. 



30 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


of thunder had ceased, and the quiet stars came out undisturbed 
by the fierce battle that had raged beneath them. 

My friend Wurker left me for Cape Town this evening, and 
I will miss him sadly. We have been boon companions for two 
months, and I have grown fond of him, but we pilgrims are 
really “ships that pass in the night.” One forms very close 
friendships on a long voyage, and I have a number made in this 
way. I would have been quite unhappy left alone here if my 
good friends and messmates, Duncan and Proctor, had not in¬ 
vited me to the theatre. The show was quite good—a musical 
comedy, or rather a comic opera called “The Old Guard.” There 
was a sort of “Me and ISTap” comedian in it, and he was excep¬ 
tionally clever. It is late and I must get to bed, as I am doing 
some hard work during the day. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

DOWN IN A GOLD MINE. 

I went out to the “Durban Roodesport Deep” mine last night. 
My room-mate coming down on the “Koenig” is the head sur¬ 
veyor at this mine, and I was his guest at dinner, after which 
we spent four hours in the bowels of the earth. Mr. Hoyer met 
me at the station, and we drove to his hotel. This I found to be 
a typical mine boarding house, but the dinner was specially 
good, and as I had been climbing over trailing banks and gear 
heads all day I enjoyed it. We hurried out when dinner was 
finished and in a few minutes were equipped with a canvas suit, 
old shoes, old hat, and a half dozen candles. We then climbed 
over all sorts of rubbish banks, broken iron and old beams until 
we reached the pit mouth. The bucket was drawn up and we 
piled into it. This bucket is about four feet wide, three feet 
deep and six feet long; open at the end and held by a regular 
bail, to which is made fast an inch wire rope running over a 
pulley and wound on a drum in the engine room. At the frame 
entrance a pull cord is fixed by which bell signals are conveyed 
to the engineer. I was instructed to climb down to the bottom 



MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


31 


of the bucket, which I did, with the loss of several square inches 
of tissue. Safely at the bottom, I got out a candle and lit it, 
whilst signals were made that we were all ready. We started 
down with a rush that convinced me the rope had parted and 
that we would reach the bottom, some three thousand feet be¬ 
low, in about three seconds, and I figured the loss of a little skin 
was but a simple thing to what would happen when the cage 
stopped. To add to my confusion, my candle promptly went out, 
and, as Hoyer had not lit his, we were in a darkness that would 
have made a finished grave seem like a June day in Buffalo. I 
was expecting the dull thud, and had asked Hoyer if there was 
any provision made in the way of a new bucket in which our re¬ 
mains could be brought to the surface for decent burial, when 
a still more terrifying move was made. Up to that time we had 
simply fallen straight down, hut now the cage seemed to have 
started off at right angles, and I was expecting it to continue on 
through to the next claim. I did not see how a matter of some 
two miles of granite rock and gold quartz was going to check 
our mad fight. Just as I decided the final crash was about 
due I felt the speed slacken, and in another moment we came to 
a standstill, at the opening of the “middle level.” We had made 
the journey of 2,100 feet in 46 seconds, and perhaps you may 
not think it, hut I can assure you it was highly sensational. 

We left the cage and walked through the main drive tunnel 
to shaft Ho. 2, and then took another wild plunge for five hun¬ 
dred feet. We were then at the lower working level, and, at the 
end of the tunnel, leading from this opening, we found the work 
going on. The gold bearing reef shelves sharply from the sur¬ 
face to an unknown depth. In the B. D. Mine they have made 
experimental borings to 3,100 feet, and still find rich quartz. 
Boyer asked me if I felt equal to the climb to the level above 
through the drift. I assured him that in the light of my recent 
experience I felt that I bore a charmed life and was prepared 
to face anything in the way of mine terrors. I only wish I 
could convey to you some ideas of what this journey was like. 
Imagine if you can a shelving rock above, seemingly held up 
from sl rock below with a corresponding pitch by pieces of 
round fire-wood cut the right length for medium-sized stove. 
In other words, the upper rock had the appearance of being 
held up by pieces of wood about 30 inches long and from six to 


32 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


eight inches in diameter. This was cut through from the middle 
level 500 feet above, and at a uniform width of sixty feet. We 
had to use these pieces of wood as a sort of ladder, and I kept 
begging Hoyer to be careful, for I felt sure if he kicked some of 
these supports out and the something less than a mile of earth 
came down on us, that we were likely to he bruised in places. 
He comforted me as best he could by assuring me that the bruises 
and other injuries would be quite painless, and after thinking 
it over, I decided he was about right. There would not be 
enough of one part of the body to feel where the other part was 
hurt. 

The “Natif Niggers” were down here in droves, working like 
beavers, cutting their way through this awful night-mare; for 
that is what it will always seem to me when I think of it. I 
would have given ten dollars if I could have gotten a flash-light 
picture of the scene. I could not repress a small, but none the 
less satisfying, sign of relief when I crawled out at the top and 
could stand erect once more. There was not much more to be 
seen. The workings are about the same as at Kimberly, and, 
after watching the ore cars load and start on their journey up¬ 
ward, we climbed into our box, and about the time I was well 
settled in the bottom of it, the box was at the top of the pit, 
having spent four hours in the weirdest excursion I have ever 
taken. My first expression after leaving the hell-hole was “poor 
niggers.” It is late now, and I am sorry, for I want to tell you 
something about the awful condition of these worse than slaves. 
Will make it the subject of special mention later on. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A NIGHT IN TOWN. 

Saturday night in Johannesburg is well worth seeing. The 
weather was perfect and I sallied out after dinner to do the town. 
There was no wind to send the dust sailing, and one of Kip¬ 
ling’s specially prepared South African full moons to light up 
the scene. I went down through the market house; a covered 
building about 200 feet long. Stalls were ranged along each 



WAS VERY ANXIOUS TO OBTAIN A VIEW FROM THE TOP. 























































MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


33 


side of the way, and I could scarcely believe it was only three 
weeks to Christmas when I saw new potatoes, new tomatoes, 
green corn, new onions, green peas, and, most interesting of all, 
a big fat watermelon. With the number of negroes around, and 
the nature of the product, I could almost imagine myself back 
of the Monticello Hotel on a Saturday night in July. As I left 
the building I came upon a group of the ubiquitous Salvation 
Army with the drum and the cornet in full action. I waited 
long enough to hear one of the soldiers make a charge on the 
redoubt of sin, and I was surprised to note the intelligence of his 
utterances. There was none of the usual cut and dried phrases, 
and, in fact, I have listened to a far less able sermon from a 
well ordained pulpit. Preaching of various types seemed to be 
the order of the night. One fellow was on the temperance ques¬ 
tion, and his was a field that is surely ripe. I am satisfied that 
there is more whiskey drank in Johannesburg per capita than in 
any other spot on earth. Pour of the corners were occupied by 
what seemed to be independent branches of Christian workers, 
and one fellow was defending the mission work among the 
Kaffirs. He went on to state cases, where, influenced bv divine 
grace, the Kaffir boy had been known to return a pair of socks 
(with holes in, no doubt) which he had stolen, and another case 
where he had pinched two pounds of sugar and came back and 
worked for the man two weeks for nothing to settle the account. 
Mr. Duncan was with me, and as he has been with the Kaffir 
for the past 22 years, and claims to know them well, he assured 
me that upon close investigation, times would have been found 
hard, and the coon was glad to get something to eat during his 
period of penance. We stopped at each of the preacher’s stands 
for a few moments, and were surprised in each case by the very 
high intellectual order of each speaker. And what a city of con¬ 
trasts it is! Passing back and forth within sound of the preach¬ 
ers’ voices were crowds of the “Hymph du pare” (the town is 
simply infested with them, and one cannot walk the streets with¬ 
out being importuned to such an extent that it becomes a nui¬ 
sance), and more besotted wrecks only waiting for the turn 
of the ? tide to toss them hopelessly on the rocks of utter ruin. 
One of the preachers was interrupted by a drunken beast who 
wanted to take the preacher’s place. The light shone on bo: o 
faces, and it was one of the greatest temperance lectures ever 


34 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


presented. The one man, clean, erect, clean-eyed and with a 
face wholly free from the lines of evil passion; and the other, 
with the stains of the gutter upon his clothes and the marks of 
utter degradation in every line of his face, and in every sound 
of his voice. What a commentary it was. 

There is only one street in the town that is paved at all, and 
that for only two blocks. Saturday night this seems to be a 
sort of Piccadilly Circus. Not even a ricksha was allowed to 
invade this sacred (or profane would be more properly speaking) 
precinct. It is such a contrast to the other streets, that I am sur¬ 
prised they do not fence it in and sell tickets for the grand prom¬ 
enade. I came back to the hotel at 10 o’clock to find two ship¬ 
mates had called during my absence. Was sorry to miss seeing 
them, but the streets of Johannesburg on Saturday night was 
more entertaining by far. 


CHAPTER X. 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 

My work was about finished up yesterday, and to-day I ac¬ 
cepted an invitation from Mr. Dewar, of the Bonanza Mine, to 
follow the process of extracting gold from the mine to the ingot. 
It was very interesting and quite incomprehensible to the lay¬ 
man. I saw a big tank, which they told me contained the cya¬ 
nide solution; then more tanks high up and filled with what 
looked like building sand, and it was being covered with the 
cyanide solution. This, I was told, was stirred up from time to 
time, and the cyanide dissolved the gold and was drawn off after¬ 
wards, in eight hours if the rock had been pulverized; two days 
if it is heavy. About 90 per cent, of the gold is taken in this 
way from the crushed stone, and the next move is to extract it 
from the solution. This is done by passing it down the middle 
of a series of hoppers filled with shaved zinc. An amalgamation 
takes place and the zinc mixture is then taken to the smelting 
works, mixed with umbrage and charcoal and melted in a fierce 
heat. This leaves a lead button as it is called, and a pot full of 



MY TRIP TO SOUTH AURIGA. 


35 


glass-like slag. This button is taken off and submitted to an¬ 
other burning, which sends the lead up in smoke and leaves a 
lump of black stuff that you would call anything hut gold. This 
in turn is assayed, pigged and passed through the various hanks 
for England. Mr. Dewar kindly gave me a small quantity of 
virgin gold which I will keep with my treasures as a memento 
of my visit to the famous Rand (pronounced Runt). 

The business part of my trip is practically ended, and taking 
it all in all it has been very satisfactory. There is a vast puan- 
tity of Babbit metal used here, as in quartz mining every 
ounce of the gold bearing, rock must pass through crushers. 
Then, too, there are the monster engines, air compressors and 
conveyors where metal is used. One of my competitors was 
down here six or eight months before I came and landed 150 
tons of his product, which reminds me of an incident of my boy¬ 
hood days. I was up in a cherry tree and slipped, falling about 
30 feet. I landed on the hack of an old cow, and was promptly 
tossed into a nearby fence corner full of blackberry hushes. I 
was a wreck when I crawled out, hut the only consolation I got 
from my old uncle, who was standing near, was, “Why did you 
doit?” 

These good people down here will know what Babbit metal is 
when they try mine and will not land in the briar bushes again. 
I am pleased to note the popularity of American products here. 
Nearly all the rock crushers in use are the Gates; the air com¬ 
pressors and drills are mostly from the Rand Drill Company, 
and Ingersoll, Seargent and* Allis Chalmers engines are most 
popular. I visited the brewery one day last week and found it 
equipped with a Erick Company ice machine, so that America is 
represented here in the machinery line. I also found some 
hoards advertising the Osborn harvesting machinery, hut did 
not see anv machines exhibited. No doubt they are to he found 
in the agricultural section. Armour & Company and Anheuser- 
Busch have depots here and also at Cape Town, and seem to he 
doing a big business. In fact, I have not felt that I have been 
in a strange land at all. The people here are most courteous 
and kindly. I was entertained royally at the various clubs, and 
was made to feel welcome at all times. I shall carry only the 
happiest memories from here and hope it may he my good for¬ 
tune to drink another Scotch (and hunt for another penny) with 


36 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


my friend Smith, of the National Tube Company, in the not 
too distant future. 

I left Johannesburg last night on the train “Du Lux,” and 
had a most comfortable night. I had a regular room on the 
train. At 10 o’clock the porter came in with clean sheets, pil¬ 
low and blanket and made a most inviting looking bed, which 
I enjoyed until the guard called me so I could see the battlefield 
of Majube Hill. I understand the country to this point is about 
the same as around Johanneshurg, hut by 8 o’clock we were well 
into Natal. The scene was extremely pleasant, green grass 
everywhere and a number of beautiful trees. The whole earth 
seems flooded with the perfume of the Mimaso. I did not think 
it possible for them to become so beautiful when I saw them with 
their ghastly thorns in the Karoo, but they are now the greenest 
of green, and covered from ground to the top with the most 
beautiful and fragrant yellow flowers. 

I was awakened this morning hearing a regular old plantation 
negro’s crooning song. I looked out of the window, and there 
sure enough was a genuine old Virginia negro sweeping out the 
porch yard, keeping time with broom and feet with the song. It 
did not require much of a stretch of imagination to fancy myself 
at Burkeville, only the morning air at Burkeville never was laden 
with the perfume of the Mimaso. It is so delicious that one’s 
lungs get hungry and never are satisfied. This is a famous 
place. The hotel I am stopping at (The Koyal) figured prom¬ 
inently during the siege. I was fortunate enough to have a let¬ 
ter of introduction to Mr. G. W. Lines, the Town Clerk, and 
was entertained by him in the most hospitable manner. He 
went with me to many points of interest, and explained the 
various movements of the troops during the 120 days’ fight. Mr. 
Lines also gave me one of the books compiled by himself, in 
which all the various details of the siege and relief is collected. 
It is a most interesting publication, and I shall keep it as one of 
my choice mementos.* 

This is a quaint place; down in a saucer (like all South Afri¬ 
can towns) with kopje all around. The town is one long street, 
running from the river to the first fort hill, and has very little 
to commend it to the visitor, except the part it played during the 

•Some blooming thief on hoard the Burgomaster pinched this book, 
and it was not recovered, although I offered two pounds reward. 



MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


37 


war. I visited Wagon Hill and Caesar’s Camp yesterday, and 
this morning Mr. Lines and I walked np to the top of Convent 
Hill, where we conld get a bird’s eye view of the entire country, 
and see Spion Kopp quite plainly. I would try to tell you 
something of this place, as seen during the war, hut Mr. Lines 
has done it so well I will let you read him instead. 

I was much interested by the outfit of one of the “Hatif dig¬ 
gers” here this morning. He seemed to be one in authority, and 
Mr. Lines tells me he is his messenger. His general makeup is 
different from anything I had seen before. At first I thought 
he had a head dress consisting of a large black and highly pol¬ 
ished wooden ring, and that his head was shaved up to the place 
where the ring rested, but upon investigation I find this ring i3 
composed of his wool, plaited into this cap-like ring and then 
glazed over with some wood gum. It is a mark of special high 
rank amongst the Zulus. This man is an Imnni, or a sort of sec¬ 
tion boss, and this particular head-dress indicates that the wearer 
has done some act of great valor, and, as a reward, he is allowed 
to have as many wives as he can afford to buy. The matter of 
wives among the Sopth African tribes is a very interesting sub¬ 
ject. With some of them a man can have as many as he can 
afford to buy, and with them all it is a matter of barter; the 
value ranging from a string of beads to ten head of cattle. But 
with others, like the Zulu tribe, a man must do some very brave 
act before he is allowed to increase his working force, and he 
must be positively heroic in the eyes of his chief and the tribe 
if he wants the privilege of an unlimited number. Just here 
let me say that I have never looked upon such magnificent types 
of physical beauty as are presented by the Zulu race, both men 
and women. The men are clean limbed, clear eyed and as erect 
as a pine tree; the women often beautiful in both face and 
form. I have seen a Zulu girl with hands and feet and ankles 
that would turn a Chicago girl green with envy, and as for the 
legs, arms and bust, especially the latter, well—-they don’t grow 
anywhere else. I have watched the gangs come in from their 
Kraals, and have been astonished by the rare magnificence of 
both men and women. The native garb consists of a blanket 
draped over the left shoulder and under the right arm, leaving 
the right shoulder, arm and neck exposed. This blanket hangs 
to the knees, and leaves the legs bare also. It is quite difficult at 


38 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


times to tell tlie male from the female, but if a girl is married 
you can tell it at once by the style of head-dress. The unmar¬ 
ried ones wear their wool just as our negroes do, but the married 
ones have their heads shaved, except at the very crown, and the 
hair is built up into a sort of column about twelve inches high 
and two and one-half inches in diameter. They dye this head 
ornament with a certain kind of clay to the most approved shade 
of titian. I was much amused at one of the head men coming 
into Ladysmith this morning. He was buttoned to the chin in 
a heavy army top coat and cape. The thermometer was up to 
the vicinity of 100 in the shade, and the oil was coming out of 
him, but there was not a button loose. The pride of that nigger 
is surely going to imperil his comfort on earth, even if it does not 
go before the proverbial fall. 

I have just mentioned the pride of the poor savage because of 
his top coat, but for the quintessence of unadulterated vain¬ 
glory, commend me to the native police. His uniform consists of 
rather a smart blue jacket with elbow sleeves, white knee breeches 
trimmed with red stripes at the knee, a Happy Hooligan cap 
strapped on over the left ear, a Zulu war club, two or three sets 
of bright wrist irons, and pride enough to equip one of our old 
Virginia families. This pride is something beautiful to behold 
under ordinary circumstances, but when one of the officers has 
a prisoner it reaches the danger point. I did not enquire how 
many “busts” each year, but the number must be great. 

I visited one of the native Kraals just outside of Ladysmith 
yesterday, and found the huts most ingeniously constructed. 
The South African ant gave the native his idea for building, 
for the hut is just the shape of the ant heap. It is built with 
green wythes and thatched most beautifully with straw or rather 
a special swamp grass. A door about two feet wide and three 
high is cut, and that is the only opening. The floor is made of 
the interior of ant heaps beat down and then polished. Their 
wants are so few that I doub t if anything will ever be done to 
uplift them. There is no incentive to work when a mud-colored 
blanket, that never needs washing, constitutes the wedding out¬ 
fit of a bride. A grass hut that can be built in three days makes 
the home; a block of wood for a pillow completes the furniture, 
and a handful of mealies (our corn) is a feast. Hot much hope 
for a people like this, and my observation leads me to think our 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


39 


negroes would be the same to-day if the law would permit the 
same style of living. In fact, I am surprised to note how our 
negroes have clung to the habits and customs of their ancestors. 
I have noted so many traits which are identical with the two 
peoples. The most notable, I think, is the love of color_and espe¬ 
cially red. Get one of these natives with the proper amount of 
red material in dress and more or less copper rings around the 
arms and ankles and through the nose and ears, and they no 
longer notice common people. Another striking likeness is the 
amount of energy expended wastefully in all their undertakings. 
It is quite a common tiling to see two niggers and one poor little 
Georgia mule at work, but you would think it was a twelve far¬ 
row steam outfit from the noise they make. 

I found one of the chiefs at the Kraal could speak English 
quite well and I had a long talk with him. He was very intelli¬ 
gent and we discussed many points of interest. He seemed to 
seriously question the wfisdom of sending missionaries to his 
people and seems to think an ant heap a greater moral force 
than the Sermon on the Mount, when it comes to the relative 
effect upon the South African native. I did not understand the 
illustration until he explained that some years ago a favorite 
method of punishment for adultery and thieving was to “truss” 
the guilty one, break in the top of an ant heap and seat the sin¬ 
ner upon it. In about three days there was nothing left but the 
bones of the sinful one, picked clean, and incidentally no more 
crime of a like nature during that special generation. I think 
I have mentioned that ant heaps exist here by the million, but 
if the Zulu punishment was introduced at home for the same 
offences there would not be ant hills enough to execute the law, 
even in South Africa. 

And now let me say a brief word about the Boers. I say “a 
brief word” because I say little unless I can speak kindly, and I 
find so little to justify a kindly word for “the patriots.” I came 
here with a heart overflowing with sympathy for the “liberty 
loving Boers,” but I failed to find the aforesaid L. L. B. The 
Boer of the veldt, as I saw him, is a stupid and lazy sensualist 
whose religion, although fervid, is nevertheless very much on the 
order of our Southern negro’s devotion, and it has been aptly 
likened to a “spiritual drunkenness.” In fact, it is what reli¬ 
gion will always be to the superstitious and ignorant. Olive 


40 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


Schriener’s picture of the old “Tante Sana” was not overdrawn 
in the least. This type can be seen everywhere. Their whole 
earthly ambition is to add another “morgen” to their already 
countless acres of land (a farm of twenty and thirty thousand 
acres is quite common), and then successfully breed cattle and 
children. I visited some of the farms back from Pretoria in a 
section that had not been overrun by the soldiers, yet I saw hut 
precious little difference in the general condition except the mud 
huts had not been destroyed. I did not see one single case where 
any effort had been made to beautify the homes or the grounds 
about them. A wind mill was the only ornament, seldom a tree, 
and never a flower. This struck me as being strange at first 
when I called to mind the fact that these people originally came 
from Holland. I had recently made an extensive tour through 
Holland and had found there every evidence of a desire on the 
part of the people to decorate and beautify their houses and 
grounds about them, but when one stops to think of these people, 
isolated as they are on these vast farms, with practically no in¬ 
tercourse with their fellow-men, it is easily understood. It is 
what would follow with any people, and is aptly illustrated in 
our own frontiersmen, or rather was, for we have no frontier 
now in the sense of what it was some years ago and what it is in 
South Africa. It is strange how completely men come under the 
spell of these boundless stretches of monotonous landscapes. 
There is but little pleasure except that found in a wild gallop 
over the plain on horseback, and still less of comfort; and yet I 
have talked with the men on the plains of Texas and on the veldt 
of the Transvaal and have asked, “What do you find in these 
limitless stretches of treeless land that makes you want to return 
when you leave it and go to fairer scenes?” In nearly every 
instance they stretch out their arms, palms upwards, as a priest 
would call down a blessing, and with glowing eyes and with their 
voice lowered to tender tones, such as they would use when 
speaking of their best beloved, say: “I don’t know why it is, but 
I feel I will suffocate in your cities. This is the only place 
where one can breathe.” This same spirit is found amongst 
sailors, but I can understand that. The ocean is constantly 
showing pictures and never the same one twice. From its mighty 
lips comes a continuous song, grander than the “Te Deum 
Laudamus,” more tender than a lover’s serenade, sweeter than 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


41 


all other music combined. But I have known men who see no 
pictures on the face of the ocean and hear no song. Perhaps 
my eyes and ears are not atuned; perhaps they may see pictures 
and hear songs on the veldt just as I do on the ocean. But to 
return to the Boers. It does seem hard, at first glance, that a 
people should he forced to lose their political freedom, hut the 
Boer was a stone wall against which progress heat hopelessly, 
and there was nothing to do hut crush it. This is going to he a 
great country. IJntold wealth stands ready at hand. Gold and 
precious stones beyond the estimate of man, and countless mil¬ 
lions of acres of fertile land, which, under the beneficent rule of 
Great Britain, will blossom like the rose when the people realize 
that just laws, wisely and justly administered, is what this same 
English rule means. When it comes to ruling an alien race I 
lift my hat to the red fiag. The day will come in the near 
future when Boer and Briton will work hand in hand to make 
of this great land what God intended. 

I was amused watching some of the street repairing force at 
work to-day. The outfit consisted of a medium-sized ordinary 
dump cart, such as are used by our future Tammany Hall 
leaders in the early part of their political career, five span, (10) 
long-horned, hump-shouldered, fawn-colored, sleepy-eyed Mada¬ 
gascar oxen, two infinitesimal shovels and a still lesser pick. 
The whole procession was headed by a half-grown savage lead¬ 
ing the front span by raw hide thongs made fast to their horns. 
Abreast of the middle span another savage walked, armed with 
one whip at least 25 feet long, and a shorter one for close action. 
Perched on top of the half ton of broken stone composing the 
load, sat another “natif nigger,” and he contributed the follow¬ 
ing to the general effort towards the accomplishment of this 
Herculean task. First he stretched his neck and shouted Zung. 
This was evidently meant for the middle span. . Then, in a softer 
tone, but still quite emphatic, he spoke the magic word “Ha ah. 
The off-tongue ox winked his left eye, so I am sure this was ad¬ 
dressed exclusively to him. Then came a blood-chilling Yap, 
which sounded like the howl of a bloodhound, and this was ad¬ 
dressed to the leading span, for they both wagged their stumps 
of tails. The wink of the eye and gentle shake of the tail 
stumps were the only outward and visible signs of results from 
this awful turmoil, but their inwards must have been in a tumult, 


42 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


for mine were. Later on in the day I saw eight oxen and three 
niggers hooked up to a one-mule plow, facing a stretch of field 
as big as Kansas. When one looks out over what seems to be 
at least a county that has to be plowed, and notes the time taken 
to accomplish one furrow, it makes one dizzy, and I maintain 
that more energy is wasted in South Africa than at Hiagara 
Falls. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THROUGH NATAL TO DURBAN. 

I left Ladysmith at noon yesterday, and enjoyed my trip 
through to Durban very much indeed. The country is beautiful 
from Colenzo to the coast. There is the rock, river, and ravine 
to look upon, which in turn or together is most restful to the eye 
that has seen nothing but desolation for six weeks. The Mimosa 
filled the air with perfume of its yellow glory and the green 
grass was everywhere. I never knew how beautiful just plain 
grass can he until I saw it here. It is the old story, “absence 
makes the heart grow fonder.” One can forgive the grass for 
not coming up when the snow and ice is everywhere and no birds, 
but perhaps a redbreast, but when the sun is shining, and birds 
in brilliant plumage are everywhere, we feel that we are being 
swindled by dame nature if the earth does not get green forth¬ 
with. But it is green in Hatal, and it is a rarely beautiful 
country. Pretty little towns along the railroad, and many fairly 
prosperous looking farms. With proper handling of the soil this 
could be made another California as a producer. 

The only thing to mar the beauty was the stone breastworks 
still left standing to mark the scene of an heroic struggle. These 
are ugly, by oh! how unutterably sad are the little wire in¬ 
closures, with one or more tiny white iron crosses (in some 
cases marble), in that they mark the place where a hope of 
deathless fame and glory ended—Boer and Briton side by side. 

About 3 :30 I looked out from the window and saw the town 
of Maritsburg, the capital city of Hatal, and it did look very 



MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


43 


pretty from the mountain top. I expected to reach it in about 
ten minutes, hut we were more than an hour getting down to 
the level. I would like to have stopped off at this town, hut my 
ship sails on Tuesday, and I had to push on. At 7 :30 the lights 
of Durban could be seen from the train, and at 8 :20 we pulled 
into the station; my trip through South Africa ended. Like 
every other country, it has its pleasant and unpleasant features, 
but, unfortunately in this case, the unpleasant ones, so far as 
climatic conditions and villianous robbery, conducted by rail¬ 
roads, hotels and shops go, it is a shade worse than anything I 
ever struck, not excepting Chicago. The people seem imbued 
with the one idea of money, and are willing to set aside all 
scruples when it comes to dealing. This may be all right from 
their standpoint, but I cannot help thinking it is a serious mis¬ 
take from a true business standpoint. For instance, there can 
be no free buying when the seller is trying to rob you by adding 
a profit of one to five hundred per cent, to his original cost. 
This practice can only result in the restriction of trade. I told 
several storekeepers that they either did not know how to buy, or 
they did not know how to sell, and that some Yankee would 
come down here that knew how to both buy and sell, and 
would close them all up in about six months. The climate may 
and must have something to do with it, but both the moral and 
keen business sense seems to be blunted. Take the matter of 
whiskey, for instance. I will venture to affirm that Johannes¬ 
burg to-day would make Cripple Creek and Deadwood look like 
a Kansas temperance town with Mrs. Nation on the war path. 
And this is not only so in Johannesburg, but Cape Town, Kim¬ 
berly, Bloemfontein, Pretoria, and in Durban I found the bars 
the very best patronized places of business; although you could 
get hilarious in the State on what one drink would cost here. 
One of my hotel acquaintances at Long’s told me he had taken 
from 12 to 20 drinks of whiskey daily during the 16 years he 
had been in South Africa, except while the war was going on, 
and then he could not get it. I did not form this opinion from 
casual observation, but from statements given me by reputable 
citizens and travelers. When men drink enough whiskey to 
float their brains they will surely reduce the moral standard, 
which in turn means loss of supremacy. A drunken and im¬ 
moral nation cannot be a great nation. I am not a total ab- 


44 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


stainer, but am very fond of a good glass of G-erman (not Eng¬ 
lish or American) beer, or that best of all drinks, when one is 
hot and thirsty, a whiskey and soda, with plenty of ice, but I 
think it is a grave mistake to make one’s whole life a beastly 
“Kniepe.” 

I do not know if any Englishman will ever read this, but if 
he does, I want to warn his nation through him that whiskey 
and cigarettes in the quantities consumed in England and her 
colonies may have had as much to do with the South African 
failure as did the “defective war office,” and perhaps more, in 
that we read where General So-and-So failed to get there on 
time. Whiskey, if it is one of the Jersey brand, will perhaps 
give a man courage to do desperate deeds of valor, but it never 
helped a man to think out how this deed of valor can be made 
effective, nor does it help him reach the point of beginning, if 
the march be long. 

Please do not think I am condemning the whole English na¬ 
tion and her dependencies in one sweep. All Englishmen are 
not drunkards, by any means, nor do all of them smoke vile 
American cigarettes, thank God, but many of them do; too 
many, and I hope yet to be able to visit London without being 
sorry I came from a land where tobacco is grown. 

I met many high-minded Christian gentlemen in the Trans¬ 
vaal and elsewhere; men doing a great work of regeneration, 
but the late war cast the moral wrecks of the world upon this 
country, and many of them have remained to poison the moral 
atmosphere. It is a sorry task to handle these, but this problem 
will be worked out along with the other great questions, such as 
what will be done with the negro. Seen from the standpoint of 
a stranger, even when that stranger comes from the “inhuman 
South,” it strikes one as being an heroic method by which these 
people handle the black man. There is every evil element of 
slavery, except permanent ownership, with none of the good, 
such as proper care and attendance. It will be far better to put 
a money value upon their bodies and permit ownership, for then 
at least the same care would be given them that would be given 
a horse of the same market value. As it is now, the mine 
owners enjoy all the rights of ownership for certain periods, 
without the restrictions which would follow actual slavery, be¬ 
cause of self-interest, if for no other reason. 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


45 


There is a widely diversified opinion held by people who have 
lived among these various tribes. One tells me they are kindly 
natured, honest, faithful, and have a high moral standard, until 
the white man gets among them. Along comes another man, 
apparently just as reliable, and he says, “damn the niggers,” 
you will never do anything with him.” “He won’t work if he 
can steal, and even the grace of God cannot quite redeem him 
along this line. Moral sense, from the standpoint of Christian¬ 
ity, is an unknown quantity. True, if a woman gets into 
trouble before she is bought for that purpose by one of her tribe 
and is known as a wife, she gets her throat cut or is given some 
other like gentle reminder that she has broken the law. Of 
course, so long as they do not have to wear a loose cape it is all 
right, and therein they are not so very far different from their 
white sisters ?” And so it goes. This latter picture tallies very 
closely with the negro as we know him down South, hut his 
apologist will say it is contact, while the other fellow will swear 
it is bom in them. 

There is one question, however, that everybody is unanimous 
on, and that is the negro missionary as sent out from the States, 
and natives whom the white men have sent home to be educated. 
When this negro preacher comes over from America or Europe 
and gets mixed up with the natives he becomes a nuisance to 
the community, and a menace to the general peace of the coun¬ 
try. Say what you will, a black man is, and always will be, a 
black man, let him be found on the Zambesi clothed in a string 
of beads and his ignorance, or in the halls of Congress at Wash¬ 
ington, with a red necktie and a yellow vest. Given such train¬ 
ing as is generally looked upon as being correct (save and ex¬ 
cept the Tuskegee method) and the average negro becomes posi¬ 
tively insufferable, and this is especially the case when this same 
negro is placed with and over his own people. I have had old 
slaves tell me they would rather work a month under the hardest 
of Yankee overseers than to put in one day under their fellow 
slaves raised to the rank of field boss. It is quite the same in 
religious conditions. In nearly every case that has been tested, 
it is a matter of “Mealies.” Given plenty to eat and not much 
work to do and you will have a good Christian negro so long as 
the hen-houses are kept carefully locked, but no longer. I have 
personally known cases where the old “Parson” had worked his 


46 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


congregation np to tlie point where they ripped their clothes off 
in their religious frenzy by his intoning of the one sentence, 
“Oh, lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world,” and 
yet a neighbor lost a big fat hen that night, although no one went 
home that way hut the good old parson. Another thing certain, 
if you had called next day you would have found fried chicken, 
despite the fact that the original “setting” of seven chickens 
and their father and mother were still running around the par¬ 
son’s yard. All these things are fixed in my mind by personal 
observation, and all these stories about “pristine purity” and 
“innate honesty” makes me want a pinch of salt when I take 
them in. 

Perhaps I have gaid some unkind things of South Africa. I 
know I have felt like doing it, hut I try not to forget this is dif¬ 
ferent from any other place I have ever visited, not even ex¬ 
cepting Uraguay, when it was in the midst of a presidential 
election every ten days. Priends who have been there recently 
tell me it is no longer necessary to make a detour to pass the 
building where the president lives. 

In fact, one man told me he had stood on the street not long 
since and watched President Ordonez walk from his carriage to 
his door and did not have to dodge once. Twenty-five years ago 
he would have wanted a bomb-proof arrangement of some sort 
to watch this event. But then the hotels in Montevideo never 
did charge 36 cents for a bum whiskey and soda. Neither did 
they tax one $5.00 per day for a 50 cent room, so there was 
always some home for them. Therefore South Africa will be 
numbered with the ungodly until a visitor can get a bottle of 
beer for a shilling instead of four hob, and a decent bed with 
board for $2.50 per day. 


CHAPTEK XII. 

THE INDIAN OCEAN. 

December 15th.—Old Neptune must know that I am partial 
to a little movement, for every trip of late has been lively, to 
say the least. We came out of Durban to-day in the teeth of a 



MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


47 


half gale, and there was a noticeable barrenness in the saloon at 
the dinner hour. A very bright compatriot of mine is located 
at the same table with me, hut she is no doubt paying tribute to 
Neptune just now. There seems to be quite a pleasant com¬ 
pany on board, hut inclined to break in on one at the most inop¬ 
portune time. The murderous hand, may I he forgiven for 
calling it a respectable name, has been much in evidence to-day, 
and I was unchristian enough to wish a big wave would sweep 
over the place where they do congregate and not even leave a 
music stand behind. It is positively cruel for one to he racked 
by such awful sounds as do eminate from it under the sacred 
name of music. I faced the gale at the how just to escape the 
racket, and whilst there was joined by one of our British con¬ 
tingent. I remarked that it was hard to tell which was the 
most objectionable, the wind behind or the gale in front. His 
reply was, “Oh, really, is it blowing behind as well V 9 “It cer¬ 
tainly sounds like it,” I replied and turned away, weary that my 
effort to he witty had fallen on such barren ground. In about 
ten minutes our friend returned, and remraked, “Ah, now 
really, by Jove, that is a fact; there is considerable wind, hack 
there.” I have great hopes for that chap, and will not he in the 
least surprised if he will be perpetrating jokes himself before 
the journey is ended. 

Well, my work is fiinished in South Africa, and taking it all 
in all, I am rather well pleased. I have sown seed that will 
bring forth an abundant harvest, if it is properly looked after, 
and I hope to come hack down here in about eighteen months. 
I went for a ricksha ride around the town yesterday afternoon 
with our agent, and enjoyed it very much. It is a beautiful 
place; streets broad and well paved; shops large and attractive 
and the residential quarter is simply superb. The grounds 
about the dwellings are beautifully kept; the boundaries .marked 
by hedges and ornamental iron railing. The foliage is luxu¬ 
riant, with a perfect riot of color amongst the flowers. There 
is one tree, specially, called the Flamboyen, which surpasses any¬ 
thing I have ever looked upon for gorgeousness. At first glance 
one would suppose it was a great spreading locust tree, hut 
upon close inspection I found the leaves were more fern-like. In 
fact a leaf pulled from the tree and you would have a leaf of the 
maiden hair fern, pure and simple. How, fancy a great tree, 


48 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


with limbs spreading out for thirty feet all around, with this 
lace-like foliage and the whole literally saturated with the most 
intensely scarlet flowers. I tell you it makes a picture. Then, 
there is a number of flowering shrub—one in particular, from 
three to fifteen feet high, growing in clusters like our old garden 
shrub, and covered with the bluest of flowers. The flowers are 
so numerous that the foliage is completely hidden, and we see 
only a blue pyramid. Then there was the lily in three or four 
varieties; the Petunia of every color, and the ubuquitous sun¬ 
flower, the wandering Jew of the flower kingdom, for they are 
found everywhere. . 

We went to the summit of the hills back of the town, and it 
gave us a splendid view of the town, bay, bluff and the blue 
Indian Ocean beyond. We came back through the Malay quar¬ 
ter, and I spent an interesting hour with the heathen. What a 
congress of nations it proved to be! Zulu and Zambesian; 
Cingalese and Basula; Coolies from all the Indian ports, and 
the Arab in his gaberdine and skull cap, the Shylocks of Africa. 
We went into their shops, and I examined some of their food 
concoctions; strange they were in appearance, and stranger still 
in smell. I am naturally curious, but I could not bring myself 
to sample any of these products. I was much interested in 
watching the mixed conglomerate represented by our crew and 
third-class passengers to-day at noon when they sat at luncheon. 
They were squatted around in groups on deck around a flat pan 
into which they all dipped with their fingers. Some of the 
wealthier classes had portions of the luxuries we saw yesterday, 
worm-like concoctions and such, but the most frequent dish was 
half-cooked rice, mixed with chopped stock fish, over which 
was poured a mixture of curry. A Harlem goat would have left 
it for his usual fare of tin cans and Hew York Journals. 

I have just come in from a walk on deck. It is still blowing 
a gale, but the good ship is as steady as an island. The dark 
outlines of the shore can just be traced against the sky, and the 
white horses are prancing over the ocean plains, and so the 
night comes down on the first day homeward bound. a Who 
hath desired the Sea ? The sight of salt water unbounded—the 
heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the somber 
wind hounded ? The sleep barrelled swell before storm, gray, 
foamless, enormous and growing stark calm on the lap of the 


MY TRIP TO £OTJTH AFRICA. 


49 


line or the crazy-eyed hurricane blowing. His sea, in no show¬ 
ing the same—his sea and the same ? neath each showing. 
His sea as she slackens or thrills, o aSnd no otherwise— 
so and no otherwise hill men desire their hills.” Before 
I close, however, X must give you a brief word picture 
of the many odd figures which were at the dock to see us 
off. One was a high-toned colored lady of the Coolie type, 
and her outfit would have won her undying fame on the 
stage of the Terrace Garden or at the Suburban. She was 
dressed in a voluminous gown of salmon-colored silk; over her 
head and draped about her shoulders was a kind of knit woolen 
shawl of alternate pink and pale green stripes; a bright yellow 
shirtwaist, with black stripes. So much for the dress, and now a 
word on the jewelry part of the outfit. One side of her nose was 
stuck full of what looked like three-for-a-quarter collar buttons, 
and from the end of the nose hung what seemed to be a section 
of steel bead purse. This latter almost hid her lips.* On both 
arms was a profusion of gilt bracelets and the usual silver 
anklets and toe rings. (How the deuce they walk with their 
toes full of rings is a mystery to me.) How all this regal splen¬ 
dor was squatted flat amidst the coal dust and other dock filth; 
her gorgeous draperies taking color from the local surround¬ 
ings. In vivid contrast to her I noted an old white-haired, 
white-bearded Hindoo, draped in immaculate white, and stand¬ 
ing like a statue. This is a funny old world and full of funny 
people and things. 

I came on deck this morning, after a delightful salt water 
bath, feeling like a two-year-old. We were running in quite 
close to the coast, and could distinguish the naked natives along 
the shore. There is absolutely no sign of civilization; in fact, 
we cannot even see a hut, as they are all back in the bush. The 
shore is a line of low, well-wooded hills, and quite a broad beach 
is seen when the tide is out. We will reach Delagoa Bay some 
time this evening, and spend two or three days sight-seeing in 
that most interesting place. 


*We are surprised that Mr. Lanning did not call attention to the fact 
that this mouth covering announces to the world that the wearer is a 
married woman, just as the nose cover tells us when the Egyptian 
woman is no longer a maiden. 



50 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

LORENCO MARQUES. 

We came to anchor yesterday afternoon, and some of onr 
shipmates went on shore, but I decided to hold off until to-day 
and go early. When I came on deck this morning it was rain¬ 
ing quite sharply, so I remained on board until after lunch. I 
have always claimed that “God was good to the Irish/’ and I 
will thank Him specially for that rain storm, for had it not oc¬ 
curred I would have gone on shore five hours earlier, and there¬ 
by stood at the grave of another illusion that much the sooner, 
and missed the period of anticipation. 

I have been in some of the South American cities and thought 
I had seen the perfection of indolence, filth and general absence 
of any excuse for living, but beside Lorenco Marques these 
towns become positively radiant, as memory recalls them. I 
walked up one sewer (I mean street) and down another. Bought 
four post cards, cost 36 cents, and I had quite finished the town. 
I hurried down to the dock, intending to return to the ship, at 
once, but my attention was called to a party of natives breaking 
stone. I stood for more than an hour watching them, and was 
interested and amused. There were about fifty in the gang, and 
they were striking in unison, keeping time with spirited 
“shandy.” There was a world of expression in it, and at first 
I thought they were chanting some famous war song, which in 
former years had inspired them to do valiant deeds. When a 
touch of the mournful was introduced I figured that it was 
where they were reciting the death of some great chief who had 
fallen in the fight. Just as I had completed the central pic¬ 
ture, and was prepared to pour out my sympathy, my ear was 
struck by something familiar in the words. By forgetting the 
music and paying close attention to the song, I found it con¬ 
sisted of a play on the numbers from one to ten. They would 
start all right with one, two, three, four, but they lost count 
then, and some confusion would follow. I tried to work out 
the chorus, but the nearest I could come to it was, “I eat my 
own, my own, my own,” but they did not tell me if they had 
reference to their mealies or their wives. 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


51 


They are erecting a modem office building, and have four 
cement pillars finished, with two more under construction. A 
big, good-natured Irishman is at the head of the foundation 
building gang, and I enjoyed my conversation with him. He 
told me he had been here for eight years, and he refutes my 
statement that the “Lord is good to the Irish. ” He said if that 
was correct God would never let an Irishman come to this coun¬ 
try. I watched the work go on for more than an hour. I then 
inquired how many stories the building would be when fin¬ 
ished. My friend said five. I then made a rapid calculation 
and figured that it would be finished in the year four thousand, 
nine hundred and seventy-three, and not a day sooner, for it 
took just twenty-eight minutes for a nigger to break a four 
ounce piece off the stone he was pounding on. You will recall 
I said they kept time to the song with their hammers. Well, 
sometimes they would be late in starting, and they would not 
finish the stroke. This is absolutely true. 

I find we are in for a stay here until Saturday evening, much 
to my regret. I would far rather spend this time in Zanzibar 
or Naples, but it is all in the game. The band is fairly good 
on waltzes, and there is a little girl from Philadelphia on board 
that can dance like the dickens, so I will be able to kill time 
between twirls with her, and getting my notes filled in. 

We were awakened this morning by an uproar that would 
have been a credit to a gang of Malay pirates. Upon investiga¬ 
tion it proved to be the force of Coolies getting ready to coal 
ship. I remarked to the “Reverend” that such a row would 
have awakened the Sleeping Beauty. “Yes,” said he, “but she 
would have been a mad cat, instead of a pretty woman, under 
the circumstances.” I never listened to such a blooming row 
in all my life, and I think if we present the case to the proper 
authorities we can get about two dozen of them hanged, drawn 
and quartered. The “Reverend,” as he is called, is my room¬ 
mate, and a clergyman in the Scotch Presbyterian Church. 
When I first met him I sized him up as a newspaper man, a 
traveling salesman, or a card sharp. There was a most charm¬ 
ing ensouisance about him, and I went on in my guileless man¬ 
ner, damning things that did not suit me, until yesterday morn¬ 
ing, when I happened to look at the card in front of our state¬ 
room door, and I read, with horror, the damaging fact that I 


52 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


had not been paying proper respect to the cloth. I went to him 
at once and offered an apology, hut he waved it aside and said, 
a I assure you your few swear words were most refreshing, and 
ofttimes very much needed.” I am completely charmed with 
him; he is just such another preacher as Kalph Connor portrays 
in “Black Bock ,” and I do hope to have the pleasure of meet¬ 
ing him in his native hills. I could not help speculating on the 
attitude of some of his older parishoners, if they could have 
seen him getting up close to the little American beauty, after 
she had entertained us with a Highland Fling. For my part, 

I did not blame him, and had I been a parson, with his privi¬ 
leges, I would have doubtless gotten a little closer. 

We tripped anchor at 4 P. M., sharp, and headed out past 
the red bluffs for Beira, which we will reach Monday morning. 

I feel that the time spent in Lorenco Marques has been sadly 
wasted, but the ship discharged nearly all her cargo there. The 
Coolies have worked day and night since we came to anchor, 
and only finished at 2 P. M. I did not retire until very late last 
night, and my heart aches for the poor negroes, especially for 
the ones who had been engaged in coaling. For some reason, 
they stopped taking coal about 8 o’clock, but the lighter laid 
alongside all night. It was quite half full of coal, and only a 
little of the deck space was clear. Of course this was preempted 
and many of the poor devils had to sleep on the coal pile all 
night. When I awoke this morning, the first thing I heard was 
the “Shandy” from this same gang.. They were swinging the 
coal on board, keeping time with their song, and seemingly per¬ 
fectly rested and quite happy. I wonder what the “poor, down¬ 
trodden colored man” of the South would say if he had to face 
such conditions, and have to live on half-cooked rice besides 
I am sitting in the smoking room just now, and as I look out 
through the window I can see the abrupt headland of Cape 
Colatto, with the sparkling waters of the bay between ship, and 
shore. The sun is going down and the wave crests are lit with a 
rosy glow, making a bit of land- and sea-scape that is fair to look 
upon. In a little while we will be out on the blue water, and 
only a dark line to indicate the shore of the dark land. 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


53 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A SUNDAY AT SEA. 

The usual Sunday morning concert was inflicted upon us at 
7 :30 and put us in the needful spirit to receive the blessing of 
forgiveness of sins. Although my room-mate is a parson, it did 
not save the day, and I am sure if I could have gone deep 
enough, I would have found the spirit of “charity toward all 
men/’ which is so highly commended, woefully lacking, even 
in the Reverend. I am sure he wanted to swear, for he looked so 
grateful when I said “damn that hand.” But a cold salt water 
bath will wash away even a great affliction than thoughts and 
memories of a German band, and the world is bright and glad 
once more. It looks to be only a stones-throw to the beach from 
the ship, and in fact, we are only two miles off. There is an un¬ 
broken sameness to the entire coast line, and is very much like 
the Jersey coast, only there is no Atlantic City to enliven it. 
The sea is smooth, and to look out toward the shore, we could 
easily imagine we were going down to Bay Ridge on the Colum¬ 
bia, or to Torchester on the Louise. The water has begun to 
assume the tropical blue, and is very beautiful. Quite a num¬ 
ber of new passengers came on board at Delagoa Bay, but a 
number leave us at Beira, amongst them the little Philadelphia 
girl who dances so well. I will miss her sadly, for there is no 
one else on board that can dance well enough to make me forget 
that I am forty-seven my next birthday. There are a number 
of natives on board going home, after serving a period in the 
mines at Johannesburg. I went with the doctor this morning 
when he inspected them, and I do not think I ever saw a more 
pitiful sight. The poor devils have been ill-fed, badly housed, 
and worked to death. Three or four of them are about done for, 
and it is doubtful if we will get them to Chinde before they die. 
All of them are in wretched condition, and the mine owners 
should be ashamed of themselves. There was a blooming row 
raised by the whole civilized world over the slavery question in 
the States, but I will wager all I will ever own that such a bunch 
of wretchedness could not have been found between Washington 
and the Gulf of Mexico, even when slavery was at its worst. I 


54 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


have made inquiry regarding this lot of natives, and find a state 
of affairs that can scarcely be credited. The head man tells me 
he brought 2,000 “boys” (and let me explain here that a boy in 
South Africa means anyone that is not white) from the Zam- 
besia about the first of July, indentured for five months. They 
were sent to the City and Suburban Mine and corralled in their 
compound, which would compare favorably with a well regulated 
cow-pen in the States, so far as light and air are concerned, and 
then their period of absolute slavery began. They are supposed 
to get 36 cents per day and found. Now here is how they get 
paid: They work in groups of three usually, and if one gets sick, 
say at 3 o’clock in the afternoon, the other two have to knock off, 
and none of this set get any pay for that particular day. When 
Saturday comes they have to work until midnight to “clean up” 
the week’s work (no extra pay). They do not have to work on 
Sunday nor do they get paid. If we will figure out the 
cost of bringing them down, feeding them on the way, and tak¬ 
ing them back, all of which comes out of their pay, together with 
the lost time and docking, we find they have about ten dollars to 
show for their period of service ; that is, if they live to finish 
the term. The food provided would ruin a hog raiser if he fed 
his stock with such stuff. The pigs would not eat it until they 
were on the verge of starvation, and if they did eat it, there 
would be a dead pig, that’s all. As mentioned before, the nig¬ 
gers are put into the compound and kept there. I said to Hoyer, 
when I talked to him about this, “If it was me, I would hoof it 
back to Swahili,” and learned, much to my surprise, that all 
niggers had to have a pass before they could walk about the 
town even, and they could not leave the town without a special 
pass. This sounds like Harriet Beecher Stowe, and one can 
scarcely believe that such things can be in the twentieth century, 
but it is the case. 

I intended to jot down my impressions the next day after 
being at the mines with my friend Hoyer, but was too busy; 
however, it fits in here all right, for I can see and judge the 
results of this system. The head man tells me they buried forty 
out of the two thousand that he knew of. Of the 60 left, 37 
are nearly or quite blind. All of them have sore eyes; two of 
them are about dead, and fully half of the party have con¬ 
tracted consumption and will be dead within the year. This 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


55 


sort of business may be all right for a time, but there is a God, 
and there is such a thing as God’s wrath, although it is pro¬ 
verbially slow, but these people will feel it some day, and the 
question, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” will come no nearer 
saving them than it did that other infamous murderer. It is 
not alone at Johannesburg, but the spirit of slavery seems to be 
in the air, and not the slavery that recognized the value of the 
slave, but only what can be gotten out of him during his period 
of service and then let him die; the sooner the better. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE “CITY” OF BEIRA. 

We missed the tide yesterday morning, and had to lay out on 
the flats until 4 o’clock in the afternoon, at which time we 
steamed in and anchored about half a mile from the quay. The 
town is built on a sandbank, and is about as unattractive a place 
as can be allowed to exist. If it was any worse the international 
law would* step in and interfere. I went on shore for a few 
moments, but was glad enough to get back to the ship. There is 
nothing but sand, and more sand, and there has to be special 
arrangements made to get around, which are unique. They have 
a pair of light rails laid on sleepers, and this is the public high¬ 
way. There is, I think, one car and crew open for general busi¬ 
ness, but all the magnates and potentates of the town own their 
private street cars, and have from two to five negroes to push 
them, according to the load. It is very funny to see a man 
come out of a place and order his car on the track, invite a 
friend in, and go along about his business. People coming east 
have the right of way, and people going west have to dismount, 
lift the car off the track, let the eastbound car pass, remount 
and move on. I watched this interesting process, and could not 
keep out of my mind the lines of the immortal poem, “Off ag’in, 
on ag’in, gone ag’in, Finnigan.” The only excuse in the world 
this place has for existing is the fact that it is the terminus of 



56 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA- 


the Beira & Mashonaland Railroad. But it will never be any¬ 
thing of a seaport, for everything is against it. 

In the first place, the anchorage for vessels is very much ex¬ 
posed, and they have the most terrific gales here at times. The 
American Consul tells me that a cyclone swept over the place 
last March and did not leave much except the sand, and that was 
not in the original position. To make matters worse, vessels 
drawing over 18 feet water can only cross the bar just at high 
tide, and then is likely to get stuck in the sand, and to cap the 
whole, the country for fifty miles inland is a swamp where 
fever is simply rampant. I am glad to know that we leave on 
the next tide, and no fond regrets left behind, except that my 
little friend, the wife of the American Consul, left us here, and 
I will have no one to dance with for the balance of the trip. 

I suffered awfully with the heat last night, hut at 4 o’clock 
this morning we got under way, and a deliciously cool breeze 
came into our cabin window. I tell you it was pleasant, and 
the parson and I were soon making up for lost time. The re¬ 
sult was we were both late for breakfast. I went out on the 
forecastle at noon yesterday and my body did not cast the least 
shadow. The chief officer tells me that we are directly under 
the sun, as the sextant shows an altitude of 90 degrees. We are 
quite out of sight of land, although it is only a few miles to the 
west, but it is the usual swamp, and we would have to be on the 
top of it to see it. We will be at Chindi this evening, but I do 
not think I will go on shore, unless I do it like Mark Twain 
made the ascent of the Matterhorn. 

We reached our anchorage off Chindi at 4:30 P. M., and the 
tug was soon alongside to take off our passengers for this port, 
and bring on two or three. There was quite a sea on, and pas¬ 
sengers had to be put into a wicker basket and hoisted over the 
ship’s side. At times it was quite exciting, and once came near 
being a tragedy. The tug dipped and swung out just as they 
lowered the basket, and the contents came near going into the 
sea. It was full of poor negroes, whom I have already written 
about, and I know they must have thought their time had finally 
come. It was a fitting finish to their period of agony. 

We got under way for Mozambique at 7 P. M. last night, and 
when I awoke this morning the view from my port hole would 
have been a fit subject for the brush of Elmer Keene. The sea 


MY TEIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


57 


was in the happiest possible mood; blue 8S a saphire, with the 
white caps chasing each other like laughing children. I laid in 
my berth some time watching the picture, and thanked God for 
the privilege of enjoying such glorious visions. It has been a 
perfect day, just enough breeze to make the sea sparkle, and it is 
quite pleasant on shipboard. 

I have avoided sunset effects during this trip, for I fear you 
have had a surfeit of them from my pen, hut the one to-night 
was too beautiful to pass over. I came out on deck about half 
an hour before the sun went down, and became so absorbed in 
the scene that I came near missing my dinner. There was not a 
cloud in the sky, but a haze over the sun gave it the appearance 
of being veiled with a golden gauze. This radiance reached to 
the zenith, but, strange to say, it was not reflected in the water, 
wdiich remained intensely blue to the very last ray of light. When 
the sun was about ten minutes high it lost every single ray and 
shone as a great golden ball. Now the strange feature of this 
glorious scene was the clearly defined water-line of deep blue 
across the face of the sun as it disappeared. There was the 
usual short twilight of the tropics, and the night was at once 
made glorious by the new moon, with its silver horn. Saturn 
still on his visit to his brother Mars, and did ever one god visit 
another in such royal splendor ? Above them, and brighter than 
all, shone Jupiter, the monarch of the evening sky. I looked 
about me, when my eyes had, in a measure, taken in the glory 
of the west, and said “howdy” to several old star friends before 
going down below to a cold dinner. We will reach Mozam¬ 
bique in the morning, and everyone is going on shore to see the 
quaint old town. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

MOZAMBIQUE. 

We reached our anchorage, some half mile from the jetty, 
this morning at G :20. The first glance would indicate some old 
Moorish town, as the style of architecture is very similar. We 
were on shore by 7, and although it was so early, it was in- 



58 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


tensely hot. It was a heat that must he killing at noon. I was 
glad to get back to the ship by 9 :30, having done the town with 
two of my mess-mates, Miss B. and Mr. Clissold. The town is 
remarkably clean. The walls whitewashed with yellow, green 
and blue whitewash , and the streets extremely well kept. The 
prisoners were at work repairing the street just at the landing. 
They were beating the broken coral down with blocks of wood 
about twelve inches square on the end of a broom stick. The 
lift was eleven and three-fourths inches from the ground, and 
they made three and one-half strokes to the minute. The street 
is about 100 yards long and 30 yards wide at this place, and as 
near as I can estimate it, they will finish this job just about in 
time to celebrate the next Tammany defeat. I also saw another 
bit of “the pace that kills” (the contractor). Some months ago 
one of the soldiers went into the magazine to steal some ammuni¬ 
tion. Just about the time he was ready to pull his freight, an 

officer came in, and wanted to know what in the-- the- 

was walking around in a powder vault with a lighted match for. 
The man promptly dropped the match, and an explosion fol¬ 
lowed, which blew one end of the fort and eleven men into King¬ 
dom come. They are holding a court martial at the present time 
trying to decide whether it was the man’s lighted match or the 
officer’s profanity that exploded the powder. They have the 
man’s right ear and the officer’s left foot, which they are hold¬ 
ing, pending the final rendering of the court, and the guilty one 
will be duly hanged. 

But to return to my story. As stated the end of the fort was 
demolished. Now they have about two hundred women carry¬ 
ing the debris about half a mile on their heads in baskets, and 
this will be carried back in the same way when the wall is ready 
to fill in. This I look upon as an endless task, for by the time 
they get the new part finished the old part will have fallen down 
from old age, and their task will begin again. The whole show 
is a regular comic opera. I think it was the Commander-in- 
Chief who went around the fort with us, and he seemed very 
grateful for the two shillings he received from the party. 

I stood on the frowning ramparts beside a formidable gun of 
the year 1650 vintage, and decided that it could safely resist the 
Chesapeake oyster fleet, if they would agree to use only “culls.” 
But it is a grand old structure; built of stones brought from 



MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


59 


Europe in sailing vessels when vessels were both small and slow 
(years 1508 to 1511) and a bastian 70 feet high and a half 
mile round it, has served its purpose in its day, and stands as a 
monument of former greatness. The town is situated on one of 
the many coral islands found just here. It is about one and 
one-half miles long and one-half mile wide at its widest. Facing 
the jetty is the German Castle, and it is really a fine building. 
We also noticed another splendid structure, which proved to be 
a hospital. There were two public squares, with a number of 
cocoanut and banana trees, and all of them ladened with green 
fruit. There were flowers everywhere in profusion, and alto¬ 
gether it was a pleasant visit, except for the murderous heat. 

When I wrote about this being like a comic opera, I had in 
mind a scene at the fort this morning. One of the Portugese 
officers had about seventy naked “Natif Niggers” out, putting 
them through the manual of arms. They were equipped with 
muskets that must have been used at the Battle of Bull Bun, and 
their drilling was worse than “Company E” of the Fifth Mary¬ 
land when Supplee was in command. It was intensely funny 
to watch their efforts to look formidable, and you know this is 
hard to do when one has onlv a loin cloth on. A soldier with¬ 
out a stripe down the leg of his pants and shoulder straps, is a 
sort of unfinished product. 

We were aboard by 9 :30, having finished the town, bought 
some shells, and got a headache. Shortly after 10 A. M. we 
were heading eastward to Nossi Bi, Madagascar, and will reach 
that point about noon to-morrow. This trip is quite a treat to 
us, as it was wholly unexpected. The afternoon sail was very 
much like a sail on the Mediteranian. The same blue, both of 
sea and sky, and only the gentle swell of the “baby ocean. I 
did not sleep well last night, and at 3 :30 A. M. I looked out 
my port hole, and for a moment I thought the ship was in peril. 
I knew the water near shore was very shallow, and when I saw 
what I supposed to be a lighthouse about 100 yards from the 
ship’s beam, it gave me a start. I tumbled out in a hurry, and 
could scarcely credit it when I found I was looking at Venus, 
which is the morning star. I never looked upon anything like 
it in the way of a star before. It threw a path of light across 
the water almost like the moon, and when a wisp of cloud would 
drift across her face the light would penetrate it and turn the 


60 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


edge to silver, if the middle was dense. I tried to dress without 
turning on the light hut could not find my shoes. However, I 
was soon on deck, and it has never been my good fortune to look 
upon anything quite so glorious in all my life. Of course this 
gem of the sky was Venus, and surely the goddess for whom she 
is named never was more beautiful. But there were many other 
wonderful stars shining. Much to my surprise, I saw the Great 
Bear, upside down it is true, but every star a-srlitter. Close 
down to the western sky line Orion held forth, upside down also 
by the way. In the north Castor and Pollux, the twin brothers, 
were rivals to the Great Bear, and only lost out because the lat¬ 
ter outnumbered them. But the rare si^ht was high up in the 
Southern sky. The Cross, as seen in the early evening, smoth¬ 
ered in the Milky Way and upside down, is something of a dis¬ 
appointment to the star lover, but at 4 A. M. it has swung clear 
of the Nebula and stands almost upright. Then indeed is it a 
glorious constellation, and well worthy the peans which have 
been sung to it. Just to the left of the Cross one sees the two 
rare stars Alpha and eBta in the constellation of the Contaur. 
These are also very beautiful. Stars of the first magnitude and 
almost as reliable as the Pole Star as a guide to the mariner in 
the southern waters. It was wonderful to watch the stars fade 
as the sun came up. First Castor and Pollux and the stars in 
the north; then Orion and the western galaxy; then the Cross, 
and it struck me as being strange that it could be seen long after 
other stars, except Venus, had faded. For a time she seemed 
to get brighter as the sun rose, and it could be seen distinctly 
ten minutes after the sun had risen, although it was bright as 
only an Indian sun can be at sunrise. 


CHAPTEB XVII. 

CHRISTMAS DAY. 

No tin horns, no turkey, no cranberry sauce, no pumpkin pie, 
and the thermometer at 98 in the shade. One of the children 
on board says, “its no Christmas, no how,” and I quite agree 



MY TEIP TO SOUTH AFEICA. 


61 


with him. When I awoke this morning I felt the spirit of the 
day: “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men,” and just in the 
midst of the beatific mentality the murderous band struck up, 
and away went the kindly feeling to give place to murder, trea¬ 
son and all such uncharitableness. The fiend who leads the band 
added insult to injury by indulging in satire. Fancy hearing 
“So let the way appear steps unto heaven; all that thou sendest 
me, in mercy given.” Oh it was cruel. But here comes in tne 
law of compensation. 

There was a sunset last night unspeakably beautiful, and one 
would be willing to endure the hand even. The western half of 
the heavens held clouds of olive green, blue gray, mauve, snowy 
white and every shade of pink. The sea was absolutely still; 
the surface like a plate glass mirror, and these clouds in all their 
rare coloring were faithfully reflected, whilst the ocean, from 
the ship to the western sky-line was simply drenched in color 
that was a blending of all the tints of the sky. There was a big 
dinner on to-night, but it was finished before I knew it had 
begun. I was by the rail at the extreme stem of the ship, and 
the steward, who came to look for me, failed to locate me, and 
thought I had fallen overboard. I missed my dinner, but I can 
get another to-day whilst it is not likely I will ever look upon an¬ 
other scene like that. 

There was a “musical” and dance after dinner, but I did not 
take any part in it. It seemed like a shame to destroy my very 
vivid mind picture by turning my thoughts toward anything in 
the way of aboard ship entertainment. I was in for another 
rare treat before the night ended. At 3 o’clock I was awakened 
by a crash that seemed great enough to split a world. One of the 
sudden tropical storms had come upon us, and it was sublime. 
The flashes would come, followed by a clash like the bringing 
together of two mighty cymbals, and there being no hills to hold 
the sound, no reverberation would follow. There was the flash, 
the crash and an awful stillness at once. It was only a very few 
minutes after the first thunder when we were in the midst of a 
driving rainstorm, and the hoarse bellow of the fog horn gave out 
its warning cry. I tell you it was weird. One of our poetical 
shipmates compared the morning to “a maiden just after her 
bath.” It was certainly fresh and beautiful as one would fancy' 
a maid would be under the proper conditions and cover. 


62 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


Well, Christmas Day is ended, and my mind has recalled last 
Christmas in vivid contrast to to-day. In Hew York a bitter 
cold rain was falling, which covered the streets with' an ugly 
sleet, and it seemed the sun would never shine again. When I 
think of what that was, and what this is, I can scarcely believe 
it is the same date. The absence of all that goes to make Christ¬ 
mas at home makes the doubt almost a certainty. We came to 
anchor off the pier head of Majunga at 4 P. M. and were soon 
on shore. It is not much of a town, but it is the Madagascar, 
and therefore interesting. Pour or five good sized and well 
stocked general stores, in one of which I saw a stack of Borden’s 
Condensed Milk, 'and some Armour’s Potted Ham. It Deing 
Christmas Day the population was out in numbers, and dressed 
in holiday garb. These people, like their black brothers, are 
extravagantly fond of colors. We met one woman whose dress 
was positively dazzling. It had been dyed in some triple ex¬ 
tract of pink, and it made the eyes ache. Draped over the head 
and shoulders she had a bright blue cotton shawl crossing at the 
waist. The usual nose and ear ornaments adorned her, and, 
shade of Martha Washington, she had a little square of white 
court plaster stuck coquettishly under the left eye. I thought 
she was the ex-queen of the island, but upon investigation we 
found her to be the major’s cook. 

At the lower end of the town we came across an imposing 
glass-roofed and partly enclosed structure. Mr. Chissold ad¬ 
vanced the theory that they had built the railroad station in an¬ 
ticipation of the railroad. I suggested that it was the Crystal 
Palace. It proved to be the market place and very interesting. 
The fish stalls were laden with young sharks and monster skales. 
The front stalls were piled with golden and green mangoes, pines 
and bananas, but, strange to say, no oranges. The most interest¬ 
ing feature was the vegetable stand. Here we found the Every¬ 
where onion,” some Lima beans, and what interested us most 
of all, a stall with tomatoes piled up like the shot at Fortress 
Monroe. The largest of the lot was not quite an inch in diam¬ 
eter, and the small ones were about the size of a cherry, but they 
tasted like tomatoes just the same, and I understand they are 
considered a great luxury. Just as we were leaving the market 
a half-naked savage came and said, “me from Maritius; me 
only man speak English in place. Me go back soon, been here 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


63 


seven months, no like French, damn, good bye,” and he turned 
away. It was one of the funniest things I ever listened to. We 
expected him to be one of the many beggars found everywhere, 
and that he would strike us for a shilling, hut he evidently only 
wanted some sympathetic person to hear his opinion of the 
French. 

We went up the hill past the Catholic Mission Church. It 
w T as decorated with bunting and paper lanterns. A service was 
being conducted by a big fat priest, in the midst of an elabo¬ 
rate illumination. The building was well filled with natives in 
various colors and degrees of dress, and perhaps half dozen 
white women. There was an old lady that interested me much. 
She was dressed in a heavy brocade silk dress, with a cape of the 
same material over her shoulders. In view of the fact that the 
thermometer stood 99 in the shade, it struck me that her piety 
was of an exceptional high order. Mr. Chissold assured me it 
was a case of pride, pure and simple, and declared he knew 
women who would wear a seal skin sack at the equator, if it hap¬ 
pened to he new and the only one in the community, but my old 
friend is rather severe on the dear creatures. 

After leaving the church we climbed to the top of the hill 
where the fortifications are built. These are partly walled in 
and contain a lot of tumble-down rookeries in the way of offi¬ 
cers’ quarters, and sheds for the barracks. But there are two 
very fine buildings about half finished, which will be used for 
general offices and quarters. We had a fine view from this point 
with a range of perhaps 30 miles in all directions. The country 
is unattractive. The Bombetoke river and bay curves back into 
a swamp land some several miles, and the rhino’s and alligators 
are plentiful there yet. In fact, one of the leading curiosities 
offered for sale is the riding whip made of the rhino’s hide. 
Large game of every description is plentiful, and I can readily 
understand it, for although we ranged the country with our 
glasses we did not locate a single habitation outside of the imme¬ 
diate settlement. 

I would like to have gone up to Mombetoke for a few miles, 
but it is very dangerous, as the fever is bad, and besides we will 
only be here for a few hours. The ship seems to be taking on 
quite a bit of ebony and iron wood (Lignum-vitae) and some 
bales of coffee bagging for trans-shipment to Zanzibar. This 


64 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


place is very old, having been established some four or five cen¬ 
turies ago, but there is nothing to indicate it, except a few moss- 
grown tombs and a bit of sea wall. The French made this their 
base of operations a few years ago, when their last fight was on, 
and soldiers do not leave much of anything standing. By far the 
most curious thing in the place is the Boa-baba tree, cut of which 
I am sending you on a postcard. We took the measurement of 
one and found it to be 73% feet in circumference. In appearance 
they look like a gigantic rutabago, with the roots, skyward. We 
passed the pesthouse, which is being torn down now. Some 
months ago they had quite an epidemic of Asiatic plague, but 
the general health of the place is good now. We will sail as soon 
as cargo is on board, and be at LTossibe about 5 P. M. to-morrow. 

We were out of sight of land when I came on deck this morn¬ 
ing, but at noon the blue mountains around ISTossibe could be 
seen. By half past three we were close into the shore, and a rare 
bit of scenery was presented. The coast line is extremely 
rugged; mountain peaks ranging from 1,500 to 2,000 feet, and 
the shore line is deeply indented. What often appeared to be an 
island proved to be a long arm reaching out into the sea and 
forming grand bays and estuaries. At the entrance to Hossibe 
from the south the arm has been cut, leaving an island about one 
mile from mainland. This island is of some considerable size, 
and heavily wooded down to the water’s edge. We passed this 
to the left, and I noticed two small cone-shaped islands close to 
the mainland on the right. One of these was almost as high as 
the famous “ Sugar Loaf” at the entrance to the harbor of Bio de 
Janero, and much the same shape. This is a very dangerous 
shore, but there is no lighthouse to warn the ships. The only 
sign of life was a series of semaphore poles for a system of sig¬ 
nals from incoming vessels, I suppose. Just as we cleared the 
passage into the bay a black thunder cloud came rolling down 
upon us. There were a few vivid flashes of lightning; the music 
of the thunder reverberating through the mountains, and a sharp 
fall of rain for a few moments. In fact, it was raining when we 
went on shore, but we only had a few hours in which to see the 
place, so could not wait until it cleared. We landed at Hell- 
ville (I could not decide if this has the English or German sig¬ 
nificance), but it is rich in tropical glory. . Cocoanut, banana 
and great mango trees in the wildest profusion, and the dwell- 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


65 


ings hidden in a tangle of leaf and flower. All very pretty from 
the standpoint of a tramp visitor, hut I think I would prefer 
ISTew York, with all its snow and sleet and sullen skies. There 
is a dank smell of death, mingled with the perfume of leaf and 
flower, and the natives flit through the dim shadows white clad, 
silent and ghostly. 

There were no shops of any size and nothing for sale, except n 
few heads and some ebony canes. I got a cane! The beggar I 
bought it from asked two shillings for it, and I offered him one. 
I secured the cane and a cussing. I proceeded to lose the cane, 
and I hope the curse went with it, for it was lurid. This island 
is the home of the famous Lemur cats, and I saw quite a number 
of them. They are very beautiful and make great pets, being 
the most kindly in disposition of any of the monkey tribe. 

We leave some time to-night for Zanzibar, and will pass a 
quiet Sunday at sea. 

This has been a quiet day, and closed with another royal sun¬ 
set, which was the only event worth recording, except the fact 
that our friend, the “Reverend,” held a short service at 5 P. M. 
He gave us a very earnest talk, urging the religion of laughter 
and song and general gladness. I find I have a touch of African 
fever and feel like 30 cents to-day. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

ZANZIBAR. 

The sports committee met and shaped up the program for the 
entertainment on board during the balance of the. voyage. I 
cannot take much interest in it, for I am still feeling like the 
aforesaid 30 cents, and then, running sack races, etc., with the 
thermometer at 100 in the shade is rather warm work even to 
look at. The concert is to take place to-night, but I rather think 
I will be in bed by the time it is due, as I feel bady. Had to call 

on the Doctor to-day. # 

I came on deck early this morning, after having a bad night. 
This infernal African fever makes one feel like a bunch of 



66 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


spinach of last week’s cuttin, but I am not going to give up to it, 
and will go on shore if I have to be carried there, as Zanzibar is 
the most curious old-world city in existence. 

We were skirting the coast of the island when I came on deck, 
and a rare sight it was. The scene was purely tropical and 
much like the shores of South America about the Amazon river. 

I could distinguish many of the trees through the glass, and was 
specially interested when I saw the great clusters of bread fruit. 
It has been many years since I have seen this curious tree. We 
anchored at 8 :30 A. M. and I shall go on shore at once. Five 
minutes after I had been carried on shore and gotten lost in the 
tangle of four feet streets, eleven feet six inches long, I quite 
forgot there was such a thing as African fever. The. evening 
came before I realized it, and as I had my guide fairly well 
loaded, as follows: four elephants, a section of rhino, part of an 
ebony tree, not to mention minor things, such as photos and 
about four bad whiskeys, I decided to come on board for dinner, 
and to deposit my spoils, but by 7 :30 I was astride the neck 
of another black man, being ashore again, and I did not return 
to ship until nearly midnight. 

How, I am going to try and give you a detailed account of my 
trip, but it will be the most unsatisfactory part of my letter. He 
one except a Baynard Taylor or Pierre Loti should attempt a 
description of Zanzibar. It is surely the quaintest and most 
bewildering place I have ever had the good fortune to wander 
through. In the first place, they land passengers on the beach, 
and the natives tote them through the surf on their backs. How, 
apparently, their sole object is to get the passengers on shore as 
speedily as possible, and to that end, they simply go in for a 
“catch as catch can.” The result is you look, and look again, 
at some object that is strange and yet familiar. When it stops 
and gets untangled, you find it is a sweet girl, and suddenly you 
become satisfied that she has very pretty open work stockings 
on, yet you do remember having seen them. 

There is a strange couple on board whom some wag has chris¬ 
tened “Bluebeard and Fatima” (I will tell you about them in 
my letter describing my shipmates for the voyage). I was par¬ 
ticularly interested to see this couple land, as Bluebeard is a load 
for a steam derrick, and I did not think he would let profane 
hands touch the beloved “Fatima,” but my boatman got into 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


67 


a dispute and kept me alongside the ship until the circus was 
over. I made quiet inquiry as to the performance, but every 
one had such a deep personal interest in the affair that no at¬ 
tention seems to have been paid to others, however funny it 
might be. I recalled my old surf landing at Maderia years ago, 
and I rode in, perched superbly on the shoulder of my carrier, 
an object of envy to the unfortunates, who had been carried iiead 
down and crossways. My feet scarcely touched ‘the beach sand 
before I was surrounded by a mob of howling “hyenas,” each 
one waiting to be my guide, philosopher and friend for the day. 
Mr. Clissold was with me, and we selected the noisiest and about 
the ugliest fiend of the lot and threw ourselves upon his tender 
mercies. We were immediately informed by his rivals that he 
was absolutely no good, and I inferred by some side remarks 
and gestures that we stood a fair chance of having our throats 
cut and other serious things done to us before we got through 
with him. But “Ferguson” was an all right coon, and took 
splendid care of us during the day, and piloted me safely 
through the shady side of town last night. He asked me for a 
letter of recommendation, which I gave him as follows: 

“Zanzibar, -December 29th, 1903.—The bearer, a black 

pirate, with an ill-gotten name (Ferguson), is about the ugliest 
heathen in Zanzibar, but he is a good, honest guide and I can 
cheerfully speak a kindly word for him. His only drawback is 
that he does not speak a word of Irish. Yours truly, J. Frank 
Tanning, Hew York, U. S. A.” He will show this with much 
pride and the reader will doubtless have a laugh over it, 

A few minutes after leaving the beach we were in the midst 
of a purely oriental scene. Tall, solemn-looking arabs, with 
gaberdine coats and small round skull caps, white short-legged 
trousers, and sandals. White robed hindoos with more white 
cloth on their heads than they have on all the rest of their bodies; 
half-naked Swahili's, with skins like black satin; laborers with no 
clothes except a piece of coffee sacking scientifically arranged to 
hide their nakedness. Great muscular black men pulling wagons 
as big as an ox-cart; larger in fact than the one seen at Lady¬ 
smith, and it had six oxen against six negroes here. The wagons 
were piled up with enormous loads, but they were swinging 
them along with a “hi, hi,” followed by a low chanting song 
The streets are so narrow that when one of these carts come along 



68 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


you have to flatten yourself against the wall, or take refuge in 
the store. I was anxious to see the result of the meeting of two 
teams hound in opposite directions, but did not see a case of this 
kind. I rather think they travel all one way in the morning, 
and the other way in the afternoon. The streets are the most 
unique institutions outside of Cario and Constantinople. Strange 
they certainly are, with the roofs of the houses nearly touching 
in places, and no street running in one direction for more than 
fifty feet. The street itself is furrowed deep with the traffic 
of countless ages, for this was an old town when the world was 
yet young. Many of the houses are imposing structures of three 
or four stories. The entrances are guarded by handsomely 
carved heavy, brass-studded, oaken doors, opening into grim, 
unlighted passages, leading, the Lord knows where, and as we 
were infidels we did not dare to investigate too closely.. Many 
of the houses have balconies glued on at the upper stories, and 
no other sign of a window except the ones opening out of these 
perches. One very quaint structures had a long, narrow stone 
stairway leading from the street to the hack door on the second 
floor; the lower part being a store, and having no connection 
with the other part. The American Consul has a fine residence, 
which is purely native in architecture. When I went in I found 
the portal guarded hy what I first supposed to he a fine speci¬ 
men of * New York policeman, hut upon close examination it 
proved to be a man-like gorilla dressed up as “one of the fin¬ 
est” He shook hands with me very kindly and was extremely 
civil, which constituted his greatest difference from his pro¬ 
totype, the aforesaid policeman. 

The stores came in for a fair amount of inspection. The 
queer little dry goods boxes with one end knocked out, and the 
storekeeper sitting cross-legged in the middle of the shop. The 
gold and silversmiths, whose only tools were a stone hollowed 
out to hold a handful of burning charcoal, a-hoard with a tough 
hard wax poured on to hold the pieces being worked, a small 
hammer, two or three chisels, a square piece of smooth iron on 
the floor, used as an anvil, and some ragged pieces of bar gold, 
silver and copper. These men also sat cross-legged on the floor. 
(Come to think of it, I did not see anything like a chair in a 
native place.) Considering the crude tools it was astonishing 
to me to see the beautiful work they turned out. There are 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


69 


some very fine Indian bazaars, which are veritable Marshall 
Fields on a small scale. It asked for all sorts of odd things, 
thinking to stump them, but they produced each time, until I 
asked one of them if he had a Royal Bengal Tiger in stock. He 
said no, but he would get me one on short notice. I bought four 
elephants from him, two in ivory and two in ebony, and some 
canes which are very beautiful. 

In the afternoon we hired a trap and drove out into the coun¬ 
try. What a sight it was. Cocoanut palms 75 feet high, with 
their bunches of nuts and long leaves at the very top. Great 
mango trees with half a dozen shades of foliage, ranging from 
a pale yellow to a dark olive green. This is most striking, as 
these various shades are in bunches, and the tree has the appear¬ 
ance of having been worn out in places and patched. The beau¬ 
tiful dwarf pineapple trees were plentiful also, and were quite 
a novelty to me. The pines I have seen heretofore have been 
fairly good sized trees, but these are only just clear of the 
ground when the fruit developes, and only one in each growth. 
Some few banana trees were seen, but they are small and not at 
all plentiful. Orange trees were conspicuous by their absence, 
and I am surprised, as this place should produce them plenti¬ 
fully, but I did not see a single tree during the entire trip. 

We drove out a well-kept road through the cemeteries, both 
Catholic and native; the latter with tombs in it almost prehis¬ 
toric, and shaded by bread fruit trees ladened with the great 
watermelon-shaped spike-covered mystery. They seem to thrive 
particularly in graveyards. My old friend Clissold remarked 
that “our friends, the dead, were getting back into action 
quickly,” which struck me as being quite clever 

On through a palm-thatched and walled native village that 
was one of the most picturesque scenes imaginable. I will not 
attempt to describe them, but am sending you some photos from 
which you can get a good idea of what they are like. The 
women were sitting on the ground plaiting straw, and in some 
places they were at work in the field, hoeing rows of sweet pota¬ 
toes and oid-fashioned Indian corn. There were other vegetables 
growing, but I did not recognize anything except the above, and 
some egg plant vines. One of the features of the village was the 
common’well which furnishes water for the community. It must 
have been the hour for washing the children, for there were some 


70 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


half dozen women drawing water, emptying it into Standard Oil 
Company’s empty cans with holes punched in the top, and then 
giving the kids a shower bath. Perhaps you know they were 
happy little niggers. About four miles from the city we came 
to one of the famous clove plantations, but unfortunately the 
season is just over, and there was not even a bud on the trees, 
but the leaves have a strong odor of the allspice, and the place 
was most interesting. 

We drove back slowly under the dense shade; the slanting rays 
of the setting sun casting strange shadows on the roadway. 
There was some little mild profanity provoked on the trip, 
which will bear telling. We came to a little hill and were told 
by the driver that we would have to walk to the top, as the 
Maud S we had in the shafts could not pull the load. We very 
promptly climbed down, and the big fat beast of a driver set¬ 
tled himself in the seat and drove off. We were in town in 
time to see the flag ceremony at 6 P. M., and then imperilled our 
dignity by getting straddle of the nigger’s neck and being 
dumped into a boat. I settled with Ferguson for the day, but 
he came off to the ship with us to carry our burdens and waited 
for me. At 7 :30 I was back on shore, and in for a trip, which 
proved most interesting. The streets, which had seemed narrow 
in the daylight, were simply splits in the darkness at night. 
Now, add to this the white-robed, barefooted heathen, moving 
silently, their dresses catching an occasional gleam of the moon¬ 
light, and you will have as ghostly a scene as can possibly be 
imagined. Round-limbed girls of ten and twelve years, their 
skins shining like black satin, stood under the sputtering flame 
of an open-wick oil light and solicited the passerby, but in a 
quiet way, and I did not see one sign of disorder during the 
entire evening; although I had Ferguson take me into the 
roughest quarter. I saw groups of men who would have struck 
terror to the hearts of Henry Morgan and his pirate crew, if 
piratical appearances counted for anything, but in each case they 
opened the way respectfully to let us pass. We finally landed 
back of the graveyards, and I must admit that I felt just a little 
uncomfortable until I got free from the tangle of hut-lined paths 
and back where I could at least see a ray of light, other than the 
fitful moonbeams. We passed the palace at 8 P. M. and his 
highness, the Sultan, came to the front of his second-story por- 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


71 


tico, and allowed the faithful and such infidels as were fortunate 
enough to be present to gaze upon his august radiance for a 
brief moment, and then turned his aristocratic back upon the 
company gathered at the shrine of royalty. I picked up a stone 
and threw Ferguson into a fit by telling him I was going to shy 
it up at his saffron majesty, so as to make him turn around. 
Poor Ferguson thought he would he crucified head down for 
being particep crimini. While waiting for his highness to show 
up, I had Ferguson bring me the necessary articles to try the 
betel nut chewing, so common here and in India among the 
natives. First, I cut some pieces from one of the nuts; then put 
some thick slacked lime on a green leaf, very similar in appear¬ 
ance and taste to our sassafras. This was rolled up and entered 
into the process. Next to follow was a small piece of tobacco, 
and then a few small cachus nuts. I turned loose about this 
time and spit something less than a quart of what looked like 
pure blood. The taste was not in the least unpleasant, and the 
effect was decidedly exhilarating. I do not think I could ever 
acquire the habit, for I looked into a mirror shortly after, and 
I had the appearance of a bloody cannibal, just after finishing 
up a feast. I expected the red blood-like stain to stay .for some 
time, hut my lips and teeth are natural color this morning.. 

We were hack at the palace at 10 :30, and just here I enjoyed 
a jolly laugh at Ferguson’s expense. I pointed out a building 
that attracted my attention, and asked what it was. ITis reply 
was, “that is the blacksmith shop where they make the oil for the 
Sultan’s lamps.” It was rather an ingenious description of an 
electric light plant. A further walk of some minutes to the 
famous “stone ship” reservoirs built by the former Sultan, and 
then to the beach. Here I found the famous Hotel de Bum. 

I counted thirty-seven guests scattered around in various posi¬ 
tions on the sand fixed for the night. A fitting picture to finish 
the greatest day of sight-seeing I have ever had. I have not told 
you half the strange things I saw; nor have I given you even 
half a word-picture of the scenes I have tried to describe. As 
stated before, only the pen of a master can do justice to this 
strangest of strange places. Let me say just here that I hacl 
forgotten I had a touch of the African fever. 


72 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

GERMAN EAST AFRICA. 

We anchored off Dar-es-Salaam at 9 yesterday morning, after 
passing through a narrow neck of water and swinging into a 
beautiful inlet with a curved white sand beach, fringed by 
Mangrove bushes, dwarf pines, cocoanuts, rubber trees, flam- 
boyan trees in full bloom, and the grand Mango trees with the 
patches of vari-colored foliage. There never was a more per¬ 
fect scene to illustrate the song, “From Greenland’s icy moun¬ 
tains to India’s coral strand.” It was the coral strand all right, 
with all the trimmings, just as I had fancied it as a boy at Sun¬ 
day school, and indeed it was the most beautiful tropical pic¬ 
ture I have ever looked upon. I went ashore in the morning, 
but could not stay long, as it was too beastly hot, but at 4:30 
I made another attempt and found it quite pleasant. Mrs. 
Benson and her little daughter accompanied me, and we had a 
most enjoyable excursion. We walked out through the town, and 
found the streets well kept and some well built and handsome 
houses. But the building that struck us most forcibly was the 
Catholic Cathedral. It is a large stone structure, (in the U. S. 
Xavy they used to give a man ten days in solitary confinement 
on bread and water if he whistled on board ship, and I am sorry 
it is not the regulation here. I simply mention this in passing.*} 
with a bell tower and bell (may the Lord forgive them for this 
sin against law and order), and it is really an imposing affair. 
We went inside and found it filled up with various grades of 
chairs and some low backless benches, evidently used for chil¬ 
dren. The altar was filled up in the usual bizarre style, with 
much color and tinsel, and I can understand it in this case, for 
it will appeal strongly to the native mind. There were several 
fine stained-glass windows telling the story of the “Man of Sor¬ 
rows,” and most interesting of all, a rude facsimile of the 
Manger, with the wax figure of the Infant Jesus and the Holy 
Family, with the wise men climbing the rocks at the entrance 
to pay tribute to the future King of the spiritual world. The 
waxed Saviour looked verv much like the healthy hopeful of a 
successful brewer, but it told the story in all its beauty to the 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


73 


simple-minded natives, and they doubtless caught the meaning 
of “boundless and redeeming love’ 7 better from this crude pic¬ 
ture than they would from one of Bishop Potter’s sermons. 

I have become a little shy on the missionary question, but I 
suppose they will finally do some good work among these black 
men. I have been beset this morning. In the first place, a 
beggar put my nerves on edge by coming into the smoking room 
and whistling “Daisy, Daisy, tell me your answer true.” I 
next found a quiet place on deck, and in a few minutes I was in 
the midst of a chattering group discussing the cost of silk as 
priced in Zanzibar. I fled incontinently to the stern of the ship, 
and they have opened up a boiler shop just beneath me. I shall 
order a bath, I think, to cool off before lunch, for sure I am hot. 

It is quiet at last, but I have been bedeviled all day, so that it 
has quite upset me, and it is doubtful if I will he able to get my 
mind running smoothly again this afternoon, unless I can catch 
the restful spirit of the church, as we felt it at the time we stood 
by the Christmas Shrine. As we left the church we met the 
Bishop, dressed in the garb so familiar to us, so far as the cut 
and arrangement, but he was all in white from the shovel hat to 
the canvas shoes. The red sash of office and the golden chain 
about is neck, holding the cross, were the only bits of color in his 
outfit. I lifted my hat to him reverently, for a man willing to 
serve the Master in this fever-stricken and benighted country is 
both a brave and a holy man, and I honor and respect him; al¬ 
though I do believe the same effort put forth in Roosevelt street 
in Hew York city would get better returns for the money and 
energy expended. Of course there would not be the same ro¬ 
mance attached to that service as there is to the work of a ser¬ 
vant of the Lord in Darkest Africa,” and women are not the 
only ones who plead guilty to a weakness along this line. When 
the good Bishop had gone on his holy way, we turned our foot¬ 
steps toward the public garden, and found it a beautiful walk. 
The avenue was bordered on each side by rubber trees, throw¬ 
ing out limbs 25 feet long, and giving a grateful shade to the 
roadway. Later on we came to and walked through another 
avenue shaded on both sides by the wonderful Plamboyan trees, 
with their fern-like leaves and crown of scarlet. The road was 
made of the crushed coral that shown white as snow in the sun- 


74 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


light. JSTow you can complete the contrasting picture with this 
border of green and red. 

The garden itself was rather disappointing, but that is always 
the case in tropical countries. The whole world is such a riot of 
color and foliage that it is quite impossible to make a garden 
noticeable. We walked through to the ocean, and came back 
along the beach. This part of our trip was most interesting. I 
thought I had seen some few sand crabs at Virginia Beach, but 
here were millions, and all of them busy as ants, bringing up 
balls of sand as they worked to dig out a new house after the 
tide of a few hours since had destroyed their former labors. Up 
near the town the coral reef comes up and forms the beach. 
Here we found different kinds of crabs; some of them were 
quite large and had blood-red claws, still others carried great 
shells on their backs; their castle in life and also their comb. 
The tide came in before we got back to the landing, and we had 
to intrude upon private grounds to get back to the roadway. 
Here we had a chance to inspect the dwarf pineapple plants. 
Many of them were ripe, and I did want to pull one, but I was 
afraid I would bring on international complications if I did. 
Just as we reached the landing the “Army” came out from the 
barracks. It consisted of about 80 coons, with old-fashioned 
muskets, and two white officers in command. The Colonel was 
mounted on a zebra, and the Adjutant on a donkey which he had 
to ride English fashion to keep his feet from the ground. It was 
a funny sight; and talk about proud niggers, u m m m!! 

When I came on deck this morning we were passing the light¬ 
house outside of Zanzibar, and at 8 :30 we were at anchor off the 
town. I would like to have gone to shore here again, but we only 
remained an hour, and then headed for Tanga. We skirted 
close to the shore for three hours and were much interested in 
the plantations as seen from the ship. Many of the houses were 
grand in proportion, and most beautifully situated. I have 
thought of a dozen things which escaped my mind when writing 
about Zanzibar, but I will tell you about the shower bath, water 
girls, punka boys and a hundred other puaint things when I 
see you. When I came on board last night a native landed at 
the gangway with a half-grown chimpanzee. The beast started 
up the ladder behind me, holding on to the guide rope and walk¬ 
ing as straight as a man. I did not get up fast enough to suit him, 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


75 


and you should have heard him swear at me. His language was 
awful, which is another proof that the missionaries are not 
doing their full duty. Well, he was the funniest fellow I ever 
met up with in the way of a monkey. He shook hands with me 
very cordially when we got on deck, and asked pardon for being 
so impatient. He ate two bananas and a mango; then his valet 
brought him a basin, with water and a towel. You should have 
seen him wash his hands and face, and then use the towel. The 
performance was as good as a circus. He left us at Tanga, but 
we got a good photo of him, which I shall treasure, if it turns 
out all right. We came to anchor oil Tanga at 4 P. M. and I 
was soon on shore. The place is not near as pretty as Dar-es- 
Salaam, hut I enjoyed my little excursion, as I have every min¬ 
ute of my time, except when the infernal band plays. (Its play¬ 
ing now.) The passengers are going to stay up and watch the 
old year out, and what a strange new year it will he for us. 


CHAPTER XX. 

HEW YEARS DAY. 

Well, we sent the old year out in great shape last night. Much 
to my surprise we got under'way at 10 o’clock, and at 10.30 
were clear of the channel, and were heading up coast for Mom¬ 
basa. The band-(There are times when I can only ex¬ 

press myself in an unknown tongue) came up about 10 :45 and 
we were soon trying to accommodate our steps to the strains of 
the Blue Danube. Mrs. Benson is an extremely clever dancer, 
and in a little while we forgot the horror of the music in the 
poetry of the motion. I did not dance with anyone else, and 
therefore had a chance to look over the scene undisturbed, from 
time to time. It was extremely prettv. The sea was nnrror- 
like and reflected the nealy full moon. The ship moved along 
majestically, throwing a furrow of phosphorescent waves from 
her bow. The passengers were all in evening dress, and every- 
one happy, although thoughts of the absent loved ones would 
sometimes give us a mental twinge. There are certain sets on 




76 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


board, as is always the case on a long voyage, and they were 
gathering in groups, laughing and chattering. Our party was 
in the saloon, and now and again a bit of song would float out 
over the water during intervals of the band. Just a few min¬ 
utes before midnight word was passed for everyone to go for¬ 
ward, which we did, and found a liberal bowl of punch and an 
invitation from the captain to drink to the health of the New 
Year. Everyone stood silent just before the stroke of the bell, 
and when it sounded, you would have thought you were in New 
York with the Fourth of July and New Year rolled into one. 
Men were stationed all over the ship with red and blue lights, 
which were touched off. All the bells in the ship were rung; 
the whistle was turned loose in full blast, and everybody yelled 
like Piute Indians. It was a great show, and as the lights 
burned low, we raised our glasses and drank “Prossit” to the 
coming year. Then there were toasts to the captain and officers, 
absent ones and the Parson. There was also a most laughable 
feature to the celebration. We shipped some seventy or eighty 
Indians and Arabs at Tanga, going to Aden. Early in the 
evening they spread their mats, rolled themselves in their 
blankets, and were soon dreaming of Houris and Nirvani, ac¬ 
cording to nationality. Imagine, if you can, the effect upon 
their peaceful slumbers when all that uproar started. 

I talked with one of the old Indians this morning, and he told 
me he did not believe in the white man’s hell, but when he awoke 
last night he thought he had been mistaken. 

He told me he had never been so badly frightened in his life, 
and that every one of the natives thought the last sad rights were 
being gone through with. When the good wishes had gone around 
and the band played the various national anthems, we had an¬ 
other bowl of punch and went to bed. Somehow I could not go 
to sleep, although I was very tired after the trip on shore, the 
dance and other excitement. The result was I did not wake up 
in time to go on shore this morning, and missed Mombasa, as 
we were about to sail when I came on deck. Was awfully sorry 
to miss this, as it is one of the most interesting places in Africa. 
It was a very important point during the early days of the 
Arabic supremacy. I could see a number of their old disman¬ 
tled fortifications, and a watch-tower which I would so much 
like to have inspected. This is all coral formation, and the 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


77 


undercut reef is very strange in pome places. I noted one in 
particular at the eastern point of the island this morning. It 
seemed to be about five feet above the general stucco work. An¬ 
other curious thing was a regular forest growing up out of the 
sea at this point. As near as I can ascertain this is the Man¬ 
grove, and some of them were good-sized trees. When the tide 
goes out the sun gets at their base, and they thrive wonderfully. 

We were all clear of land by noon, only a faint outline being 
seen in the west, and on our five days trip to Aden, and the place 
where Pharoh’s army got “drownded.” 


CHAPTEK XXI. 

OUR FELLOW PASSENGERS. 

We have a queer lot of passengers on the forward deck. The 
great German scientist and hunter, Herr Shilling, is on board, 
and has quite a managerie with him. By far the most interest¬ 
ing of the collection is a baby rhino eighteen months old. She 
is quite good-natured and it is amusing to see the tenderness she 
exhibits towards her goat companions. Frequently one is put 
into the cage with her, and they have a regular love feast. Herr 
-Schilling also has two of the very valuable “Colobus Candatus.” 
The Colobus is a very large black monkey, with a fringe of long 
white hair running from the shoulders low down the sides and 
meeting on the hips. It has the appearance of a beautiful cape, 
and this rare dress is made complete by a bushy white tail, 
which matches the cape. Herr Schilling tells me these monkeys 
cannot be tamed under any circumstances, and he put the case 
very cleverly by saying: “They are like some of the tribes, 
rather be free and starve than be well cared for in capivity. 
Another cage contains three lion cubs, and these afford no end 
of amusement for the passengers. We tie a string to their col¬ 
lars and play the role of Zenobia, or Bob Fitzsimmons, or who¬ 
ever it was’ who created such a sensation with a tame man- 
eater. These little beasts are like kittens, and I enjoy “wool- 
ing” them. One of them will stand up and box like Jim Cor¬ 
bett. 



78 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


I went down on the lower deck yesterday at feeding time, and 
it was like 4 o’clock at the Bronx Park. Such a babble. Goats, 
dogs, monkeys, parrots, vultures, storks, chickens and mongoose. 
The cages of these various beasts and birds were piled up, in 
many places, on the deck, and the booms and rigging were hung 
with bunches of bananas in various stages of ripeness. Bundles 
of sugar cane, strings of alligator pears and baskets of mangoes. 
The hatch covered with red, green, blue, yellow, and some-of-all- 
colored mats, and packages of household goods tied up in pieces 
of matting. Indians and Arabs, sashed and turbined, the 
women veiled and pantalooned, and all siting cross-legged in 
picturesque groups. Some of the Indians are great smokers. I 
saw one aspirant for Krishna’s favor, about 18 months old, 
abandon its mother’s breast to tackle a cigarette, and he held on 
to it, although the breast was held most temptingly toward him. 

I was on the fo’castle this evening and watched one of the 
musselmen go through his devotions. I tell you it was interest¬ 
ing. Pirst, he washed his head, hands and feet; then spread his 
prayer mat so he could prostrate himself towards the setting 
sun. He then stood erect upon one end of the mat, his lips mov¬ 
ing in prayer; at the expiration of two minutes he placed his 
hands upon his hips and made a rightangle triangle of his body; 
then head and knees to the floor, with hands clasped across his 
breast. In a few minutes he was erect again, and this time he 
clasped his left wrist with his right hand, instead of letting his 
arm hang at his side as at first. A minute later he raised his 
hands to a level of his face, and made a motion wonderfully like 
that made by the female Kussel Brother, when he says, “go an’ 
now.” Back to the right angle triangle, and then head down. 
Three times he went through this same evolution, and then stood 
for some time with head bowed. I was wonderfully impressed 
by the superb Courage which made it possible for this man to 
brave the open sneers and laughter by which he was surrounded. 
Heathen, he may be, and no doubt is, but in my opinion God will 
recognize such faith and devotion, even if Mahomet is the 
mediator instead of Christ. 

Talking later with Mr. Gillison, I questioned the number of 
Christians who would exhibit this same faith and courage. It 
would be a case of “where there are two or three gathered to¬ 
gether,” if you had them all, I think. We had divine service on 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


79 


board this morning, but I did not get up until noon, so missed 
it. Don’t think it was a case of laziness. I had an invitation 
last night from the first officer to go on watch with him at 4 
o’clock this morning, and was up promptly at that time. I had 
a most delightful two hours. He kindly allowed me to take a 
meridian of Beta Centauri, and I was surprised to find I had 
not forgotten how to “bring a star to the horizon.’ I believe, 
with a little study, I could work out the ship’s position, although 
it has been twenty-three years since I held a sextant in my hands. 
How vividly it brought back the old days. Days when my only 
hope was that I might some day walk the bridge with four gold 
stripes on my arm, but the “Great Admiral” destined me for 
other duty, and He only knows how faithfully I have tried and 
how utterly I have failed to do it. Still there is a world of sun¬ 
shine all about me, and next to the satisfaction of being captain 
of a ship, comes the pleasure of sailing on one, so I am most 
fortunate after all. Many poor beggars do not even get near 
their hopes. 

We crossed the Equator at 8 o’clock yesterday evening, but 
Hep tune did not get on board. There were no candidates for 
admission to the courts of his highness, as everyone on board 
ship is more or less of an old salt. 

We are having the most glorious weather. The Northeast 
Monsoon is blowing, making it deliciously cool, even in midday, 
and the sea is all alive, tossing the white caps, whilst the spray 
curls from the ship’s bow in graceful curves, catching the sun¬ 
light and falling back into the sea in liquid pearls, diamonds, 
emeralds and amythyst, saphires and a blend of all the colors 
which make radiant opals. The old-fashioned King’s ransom, so 
often spoken of in song and story, would not be worth consider¬ 
ing when compared to this royal display. The sunsets are no 
longer a blaze of glory, such as seen a few evenings since, and 
I am surprised, for as I remember the display at and near the 
Equator along the American coast was most gorgeous at all 
times. Of course this is easy to.account for, when we come to 
think about it —this is not America. 

I have been trying for some time to think of something inter¬ 
esting to write about, but there is a gang of noisy Germans here 
in the smoking room playing escarte, and vou would think it was 
the New York Cotton Exchange when Sully got on the floor. 


80 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


I never heard such a set of noisy people in my life. There is 
nothing for me to do but give it up. There is too much wind 
on deck, and one of the “song birds” is practicing for the con¬ 
cert, so I think I will visit my friends, the monkeys. No doubt 
they will kick up a beastly row as soon as I get amongst them. 
They generally do, and I am in doubt as to how to feel about it. 
Whilst on my visit to the monkeys an Indian woman appeared 
whom I had not seen before. Tor a moment I felt I was in the 
presence of some wonderful species of butterfly that had just 
broken her crysilis. Her shirtwaist was made of royal purple 
silk, gracefully draped over her breast; the skirt also draped 
and coming to the ankles, was the brightest cherry red, em¬ 
broidered with silver thread and turquois-colored heads. A glar¬ 
ing orange mantilla, with cloth of gold border about two inches 
wide, framed her face, which was both delicate in contour and 
extremely pretty. She wore green bloomers, coming to the 
ankles, around which were four silver rings, two on each leg, 
and each one inch in diameter. I counted eleven silver brace¬ 
lets around one wrist, besides a broad band of beads. The 
other arm was similarly adorned, but I could not count her 
trinklets, as the mantilla fell over the left arm. An ornament 
of heavy gold fillagree adorned the nose, hanging quite over the 
lips, besides three gold buttons in each of the nostrils. Two large 
balls of gold fillagree hung in the ears. Her eyes were stained 
with the Kola nut, finger and toe nails made red with the henna 
leaf, and the outfit of the most wonderfully garbed mortal I 
ever looked upon was complete. Strange to say, it all seemed in 
harmony and did not hurt the eye as much as some fashion 
plates I have seen on State street, Chicago. 

I was forward in the third-class this evening, and overheard 
a conversation, which was about as original and entertaining as 
anything I ever listened to in all my life. There are three or 
four English navy’s among the third-class passengers, and they 
were discussing the fare furnished in their department. One 
fellow said, “I say, old chummy, this blooming ship is giving 
us horful grub; blarst me, if it isn’t rotten and none of it.” A 
third party joined in here, and said he did not think it was so 
bad, in fact, he said it was quite as good as was served on the 
English ships. This seemed to stir all the eloquence of the 
kicker and he proceeded to prove by illustration that the German 


HIE BLACK DIAMOND EXPRESS. 


» 






















































































MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


81 


ships were no good, from the food standpoint. He said, “Did 
you ever notice how the seagulls follow a blooming Hinglish 
ship ? Well, did you ever see one in the wake of this blooming 
tub ? Ho, and you won’t. The gulls come out and circle over¬ 
head, and if you listen you can hear them say, ‘hits no good, 
old chap, she’s got the rings around the blooming funnel, and 
there won’t be anything floating astern hut old papers, and not 
much of that.’ They feeds the first-class and pass down wots 
left to the second; and when they gets through with it, it comes 
to us, and when we gets through with it, it goes to the crew, and 
when the crew gets through with it, the birds and hanimals have 
to ’unt elsewhere.” Much is lost in the telling of this, hut it was 
extremely funny. 

Miss B. came up on deck this evening, and we went aft to 
watch the sun go down. There is an Arab priest traveling 
second-class, and he was going through his evening devotions. 
We three were alone on the deck and it was an impressive scene. 
The white-clad, tense and silent figure outlined, where he stood, 
against the saffron sky yellow light of the setting sun, his face 
sublime in its calm assurance; his eyes gleaming with religious 
ferver, and his lips moving in silent prayer. It was worthy of 
some true artist’s brush, for the sun went down just as he fin¬ 
ished his prayer, while the eastern sky was made glorious by the 
rising of the full moon. Later on I watched the rifts of clouds 
drift across her beautiful face like a bridal veil, and at times 
they would catch a soft radiance, which lit up their edges with 
mother-of-pearl tints. I was slow to leave the deck, but I had a 
strenuous day, and felt that I must get to bed. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE GREAT HUNTER. 

We had another series of games on hoard yesterday, hut I 
did not take any active part in them, as they are distinctly not 
in my line. There are a number of Englishmen on hoard, how¬ 
ever, and you could bring one of them out of his coffin by tha*. 



82 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


one magic word “sport,” if spoken before the lid was screwed 
down. The people seem to enjoy the excitement, and we had the 
egg and spoon race, pillow and bar fight, whistling race, and the 
inevitable sack race, but I had much writing to do, and did not 
witness any of the stirring events. In fact, I have been turn¬ 
ing mental handsprings backwards trying to figure out how I 
was going to get a heart to heart talk with the great Herr Schil¬ 
ling. I had ventured some few timid remarks to him when he 
was done feeding his pets, and had made love to his lion cubs on 
the principle that if you want to win the mother you must call 
the babies sweet names. Herr Schilling was very courteous to 
me, but he is so confounded big and fine looking that he had me 
feeling like the proverbial 30 cents when I was in his presence. 
However, I caught him in the smoking room this evening, and 
I said to myself: How, Herr Schilling is a good German and 
there is a cask of fine cold beer on tap, so the way is clear. I 
sided up and said, “Wollen sie ein glas bier haben?” Judge of 
my surprise when he assured me most positively that he never 
touches anything in the way of spirituous liquors, except in the 
case of serious illness. I said to him, “almost thou persuadest 
me to foreswear when I know what you have endured in the way 
of physical hardships.” This was the beginning of one of the 
most delightful three hours I ever spent. Herr Schilling went 
below and brought up three portfolios of photos he has taken on 
this trip. Every one of these called up a story, which was all 
too brief. One showed a drove of 25 elephants, and when he 
told of this his face got tense, for, as he afterwards informed me, 
this same herd charged and he about gave up all hope of coming 
out alive, as he was in the open, with no shelter or way of escape, 
but by some strange freak of elephant nature they swerved to 
the left when within fifty yards, and passed him by, leaving, 
however, a monster tusker behind to mark the event. I am free 
to confess that had it been me, I would have been only too glad 
to let them go unmolested. Herr Schilling tells me he considers 
this the very closest call he has ever had during all his years of 
hunting, although he has been bowled over once by an elephant, 
and once by an enraged lion. By this time the spirit of the 
reporter had fully taken uossession of me, and Herr Scliilling 
was interested in the stories of his jungle life. The light was 
insufficient to see the photos well, and our genial captain sent to 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


83 


his cabin and had his student lamp brought down. One picture 
showed a lion crouching down, just ready to spring on a poor 
ox chained and quivering with mortal terror. It is a whole 
volume in suppressed excitement, as full of thrill to us as one of 
the Old Cap Collier’s detective stories to a Hew York messenger 
boy. Another showed the cautious approach of a cow¬ 
ardly jackal to a tethered goat. Still another showed the feast 
of a hyena, on the left, over supper of some more heroic beast, 
whilst two hungry jackals looked on enviously. Yet others 
showed rhinos, hippos, lions, deer and zebra at their watering 
places. These pictures have been taken with a special apparatus, 
made by Herr Surz, of Friedenau, Germany, and is the result 
of joint experiments made by Capt. Kiesling, of the German 
Colonial Service, and himself. This apparatus uses automatic 
flash light, which is struck when the string attached is touched 
by the animal to be photographed. Herr Schilling tells me he 
has one showing a lion just as he has caught a donkey by the 
neck, and before the hind legs had reached the victim. He has 
kindly promised to show me this unusual picture when I visit 
him at his home in Duren, near Cologne, next month, and also 
let me see the method of taking the pictures. It is needless to 
say I look forward to this visit with much pleasure. Herr Schil¬ 
ling tells me he is returning from his fourth expedition; that his 
first was a total failure, his second not much better, but when he 
went home the last time he was received by the Emperor and 
had the honor of lecturing before him. Up to the present time 
he has only published his lectures, but he will compile them, add 
his recent experiences, and publish the whole in book form. I 
do not know what title this interesting volume will come under, 
but I strongly urge my readers to look out for a jungle book by 
Herr Schilling and buy it. It will be a rare purchase at any 
price. His former trophies and his present collection will about 
complete three sets of the South African Museums of Natural 
History. I was much surprised to learn that Herr Schilling was 
conducting these expeditions personally and at his own expense. 
Had he returned to the States with a record such as he had on 
his last trip, the Hew York Journal would have had him on their 
staff with an unlimited bank account to draw from. As it is 
Herr Schilling must have a royal fund, or else he will have to be 
looking up some of our American female lion hunters. Herr 


84 


MY TEIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


Schilling is not married, and there would be some sense and rea¬ 
son in a case like this, for the girl would get a tall, straight, 
clean-limbed, clear-eyed chap, whom it is a pleasure to know, 
instead of some lisping, monocled ass, whose bloodless body can 
only be equaled by his characterless soul. Just here a brief 
description would be in place. Herr Schilling stands six feet, 
two inches, well developed shoulders and build from the head 
down, on the lines of the panther which he has hunted so suc¬ 
cessfully. A well set head, only partly covered with the light, 
silky hair characteristic of his race, broad forehead, eyes like 
Frank James, only more kindly, well shaped nose and a most 
pleasing mouth, showing lines of great firmness and determina¬ 
tion. Small, well-shaped hands and feet, and a skin the color of 
a Malay, completes the picture of this very interesting man. He 
allowed me to see his breast and arms last night, and I put my 
arm beside his. You would have said it was impossible for us 
to be of the same type. I never saw such a distinct contrast. 
He tells me he seldom wears any garment other than a thin silk 
shirt on the upper part of the body, and they had short sleeves, 
besides being open to the waist, more than half the time. A 
pair Khaki pants, a pith helmet, cummerbund, and goggles, and 
a pair of low shoes made up his hunting outfit for personal wear. 
I asked him in regard to the danger of snakes, when he men¬ 
tioned the low shoes, and was assured that snakes were not even 
considered. I suppose Herr Schilling has become so impressed 
by the real danger of elephant hunting that even a cobra de 
capello would not cause a passing thought, but the terror of 
Eden is still upon me, and if X had to wade through swamps and 
such places as Herr Schilling described I would want a pair of 
boots to my neck, made of Harveyized steel. Herr Schilling 
verified the reports I have had from other noted hunters to the 
effect that the elephant is the Emperor of the forest, and that 
all animals find they have important business in another part of 
the woods when his highness comes around to visit. In reply to 
my inquiry as to the most dangerous game to hunt, I was most 
emphatically told “the buffalo.” Ilerr Schilling assured me a 
wounded buffalo would hunt his assailant like a dog would trail 
a fox, and the fox and the hunter would both end alike, if they 
got caught. Lions are not considered dangerous until they grow 
old and are no longer able to go afield in search of their regular 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


85 


prey, and even then the old fellow would prefer a tough donkey 
to a nice, tender man, unless the man was fat and black, then the 
donkey has about equal chances. It is a frequent experience to 
have a complete circle of lions around you entertaining you with 
a chorus from the ‘Lion Tamers,” or some other operatic air 
suitable to the occasion, hut for my part I would prefer the 
Stock Company at the Bijou in II Trovatore, had as it was. Herr 
Schilling tells me he has seen as many as fourteen lions in one 
group, and that he bagged three of these with five shots. This 
is another case where I would have quietly climbed a tree to get 
a better view of the country, and I might add, in passing, that 
my interest in the landscape would have continued unabated 
until the last of that picturesque bunch had disappeared, and I 
would have checked them off very carefully as they withdrew 
from the scene. Since talking with Herr Schilling I have de¬ 
cided to do my hunting of lions like Mark Twain made, the 
ascent of Mont Blanc, and then only with stereoptican views 
taken at Bronx Park. 

Many animals are protected throughout all Africa, as a direct 
result of the Game Association meeting held in London two 
years ago. Herr Schilling was the accredited commissioner 
from Germany, and there were representatives from every nation 
having possessions in Africa. They drafted certain laws, which 
are being reasonably well enforced, with the result that the gnu 
or eland, giraffe and zebra are absolutely protected and have 
been for several months. There is some difference in the regu¬ 
lations and rules for hunting in the various protectorates. Por 
instance, in the German district a hunter pays one rupee for 
each springbok and then up to 100 rupee for an elephant.. This 
strikes me as being a much better plan than the English, m that 
the would-he slayer in their territory must plank down 50 pounds 
before he can even go onto the grounds with a gun Having m 
view my last experience as a hunter, and remembering that 
wasted about two pounds of ammunition shooting at birds, which 
were never more than ten yards from the muzzle of the gun to¬ 
gether with the painful fact that I never even knocked a tail 
feather out, I have decided to do my hunting on the German 
ground, but I sincerely hope they have some other source of 
revenue, or else better hunters than myself, otherwise the game- 
keeper would sure go broke. 


86 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


It is hard to realize that sections exist where all the animals 
we look at with open-eyed astonishment in the zoo are yet run¬ 
ning wild. Herr Schilling tells me that wild beasts will be pi, i- 
tiful in Africa for the next hundred years. Of course the march 
cf civilization means the extinction of game, but the march of 
civilization is precious slow in this country. This brings me to 
the most interesting part of my talk with Herr Schilling. He 
tells me his time was mostly spent in the land of the Masai, and 
these are by far the most mysterious of the many strange tribes 
of this mysterious land. Let me digress here for just one mo- 
moment, and call attention to something which I noted, and 
which puzzled me very much at the time. I would have men¬ 
tioned it, but would have had to infer that some one of our Jew¬ 
ish friends had gone wrong morally, and of course I would not 
do that for worlds, so I did not mention that among our boys 
who came on board at Durban to work the cargo to Zanzibar was 
a black Jew. This man had the Jewish cast of features in every 
particular. The hook nose, the restless eyes, stooped shoulders, 
which he would lift in a perfect Jewish shrug when he could not 
express himself otherwise. In fact, given straight hair and a 
less black face, and I would have asked him when he left Third 
avenue. How here is the strange part of the story. Herr 
Schilling tells me the Masai have many traits similar to the 
Jews. That they practice circumcision, and that their form of 
worship is very like that practiced by the ancient Semitic races. 
He also informs me that a Captain Marker has been working 
amongst this tribe for a number of years, and has collected their 
traditions and tabulated them, together with data, which will 
prove beyond any reasonable doubt that the Masai is an oil-shoot 
of the Semitic race. It seems there is a tribal division here 
along precisely the same lines as practiced in Bible times. That 
is, the Masai proper were and are raisers of cattle, tending the 
flocks and herds as did the tribe of Abraham. How, in this same 
country is another tribe identified with the Masai in all things 
except in marriage, which are known as the Amoroi, and these 
in turn are an amalgamation of two tribes, one of which, their 
traditions tell us, were hunters, the others planters and reapers 
of grain. These now correspond with our no-account negroes 
of the South, and are comparatively poor, stealing a little, and 
hunting less for a living. As before stated, these two people 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


87 


maintain separate casts; although both have the same story to 
tell of a former existence, dating back four to six thousand 
years, and the same God above, whom they worship. This opens 
up a question of boundless interest, and it is to be hoped Captain 
Marker’s book will soon be translated into English so we can 
follow his line of reasoning. By the way, Marker claims he can 
make whole, many of the incomplete Bible stories without a 
break. I naturally asked the question, “What is the moral con¬ 
dition of the native?” and his answer was the same as I have 
gotten from all disinterested persons whom I have asked this 
same question, and was, “They are very decent until they come 
under the influence of the white man.” 

One curious custom I must mention. The two sexes of the 
same age, say from 12 to 15, and from 15 to 20, mingle freely, 
hut the children must not go with the youths and maidens, nor 
are the older ones allowed to mingle with the children. One 
would naturally suppose that bastardly would he frequent, hut 
if a woman gives birth to a child before she is regularly mar¬ 
ried, she is slain. So there is less of this sort of thing than in 
the land where the only penalty is $04.00 payment from the 
the land where the only penalty is $40.00 payment from the 
young and interesting widow. It does not seem that the same 
code of morals will do for both sexes, and no more will the same 
religious teaching he productive of good for both people. Asked 
in regard to the work of the missionary brought out an expres¬ 
sion of doubt, which was almost a certainty that our efforts along 
that line are hopeless. Herr Schilling tells me he has known 
several of the Masai who have been sent to Germany and well 
educated, but they were no sooner under the shade of a cocoa- 
nut tree before the white shirt of civilization was discarded for 
the piece of leopard skin, and the respectable trousers for a lion 
cloth and leg decorations in clay.* We have this same expe¬ 
rience with our Carlisle redemptions of the Noble Red Man. 
Six months after he returns to the plains he is wrapped in his 


♦The daily papers have recently told of a specific case where a native 
had been brought to America, educated thoroughly, and sent out as a 
missionary to his tribe. The account goes on to say that the reformed 
and supposedly regenerated savage had repudiated the faith and be¬ 
come the chief of his tribe of devil worsihppers. 



88 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


blanket, doing mental gymnastics trying to forget all be has 
learned, except bis taste for tobacco and whiskey. 

Let me quote Herr Schilling’s own words: “The negro is a 
born slave, and will never fill any other sphere in the economy 
of nations with any degree of success. Given full liberty and 
he becomes licentious; given education and he becomes lazy and 
vain like a spoilt child.” This tallies perfectly with statements 
made by others whom I have talked with, and religion and civil¬ 
ization, as we understand them, seems to have poor soil in which 
to thrive. I have always held to this opinion, and feel that it 
has been verified. Should this conviction become general it will 
cut down the list of martyrs, who win a crown of glory and the 
heart of the prettiest girl in the church at the same time. I do 
not mean to speak harshly of the missionary, but I can find no 
reason to change my belief that it would be far better for our 
faithful followers to get down around Chatham Square and try 
to do the Master’s work. My information regarding the negro 
missionary coincides with Herr Schilling’s opinion. He tells 
me they are a positive curse to the country and to their black 
brethren whom they are sent out to uplift and lead to the path¬ 
way of truth and righteousness, but who really puts forth a far 
greater effort to impress his inferior brothers with his own im¬ 
portance. 

Of course I could not let Herr Schilling go until he had told 
me something of the tstse fly, for it is next to the labor question 
in the Transvaal in point of interest. Herr Schilling takes issue 
with the commission sent out by the Belgium government, and 
whose report has recently been published, in which they claim 
this peculiar fly is the direct cause of that most peculiar of dis¬ 
eases known as the “sleeping sickness.” Herr Schilling main¬ 
tains that fever, sleeping sickness, and all kindred diseases can 
be traced to the bite of the mosquito. 

At this point I felt that I had about worn the patience of our 
genial explorer to a frazzle, so I said, “Only one more question, 
Herr Schilling, and I will not bother you any more to-night.” 
Just here he interrupted me with, “My dear sir, don’t mention 
having troubled me; I have often heard of the American news¬ 
paper man, and being interested in all sorts of wild animals. 
I was anxious to meet one of your specie.” I then put the ques¬ 
tion, “Why have you never married ?” but my only answer was 
a laughing good night. 


MY TRIP TO £OUTH AFRICA. 


89 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

CAPE OUARDAFUI. 

When I came on deck this morning, the Dover-like cliffs of 
Has Hafen or Meduddu, were to be seen close by. This is the 
extreme eastern point of Africa, and the section is known as 
Somaliland. Jnst back of the coast the English are engaged in 
one of the frequent insurrections, similar to that which cost 
Gordon his life at Kartoom, and I understand this has been a 
most bitter fight. Mrs. Benson got a good snap shot of the head¬ 
lands, which will make a most interesting picture. It is a 
curious formation. Looks as if part of the Continent had been 
pushed out into the sea and then broken off. The chart shows 
an enormous depth close up to the shore, and about 15,000 feet, 
10 miles out from the coast, while within 100 yards of the beach 
it is something like 200 feet. Although the depth is so great, 
it is considered quite dangerous in that there is not a lighthouse 
for miles. You will understand this when I tell you that Italy 
owns a strip of the coast up to Cape Guardafui. If this showed 
orange, the color of England, or pink, the color of Germany, on 
the map, instead of blue, there would be lighthouses all along to 
guard this coast. 

I have quite come to the conclusion that England and Ger¬ 
many are the only two countries on earth that should be allowed 
to hoist their flag anywhere, except in their own mother coun¬ 
try, and even Germany has much to learn before she can “clap 
the slave upon the back and see him rise a man.” One cannot 
help drawing comparisons between the various nations in their 
administration of the different sections. In England and Ger¬ 
many territory the coast line is carefully guarded at close inter¬ 
vals by well equipped lighthouses. The towns are clean and law 
and order seems to prevail. How, let us look at the condition of 
the coast of the Portugese section. We ran close along the shore 
for miles and miles, but there was no light, other than the one 
at Lorenco Marques. And take the town of Loranco Marques at 
Delagoa Bay. Here we find filth in the street, vile smells every¬ 
where, and a general air of don’t-care-a-damness, which the new 
word fails to fully express. 


90 


MY TEIP TO SOUTH AFEICA. 


As usual, I fled to the fo’ castle when the baud began to make 
a noise this morning, and bad a most delightful talk witb a 
youngster who is going borne third-class after about fifteen 
months of “Johnsonitis.” He read Sir Harry Johnson’s glow¬ 
ing accounts of his conquest of the South African animal King¬ 
dom, and although he was only seventeen years old at the time, 
he fitted himself out and came down here hoping and believing 
that he would have to charter the Burgermeister to carry home 
his elephant’s tusks and lion skins, but instead his trophies are 
all in one very small box, whilst he is feeding on the third edi¬ 
tion and sleeping on the soft side of an oak plank, but he is a 
very nervy chap, and it would not surprise me if he got him¬ 
self together and turned this experience to account after all. He 
spent nine months in the vicinity of Kilima Hoschara, with the 
Masai. He quite verified Herr Schilling’s account of these 
people. The young man also told me of the Liona bbys under 
sixteen, and of the circumcision which takes place at the age of 
sixteen, and the lad’s exultant cry of a manu me, manu que’ly,” 
which means, “I am a man now.” 

He is a warrior from that time and permitted to bear arms. 
His career now opens and he starts out to raise or steal enough 
cattle to buy a wife. Failing to do either he remains a warrior 
for the balance of his life. As soon, however, as he gets mar¬ 
ried, he lays aside the spear and shield, and takes up the rhino 
hide whip with which to begin his lifework of beating his 
women. These Masai are the most expert cattle thieves in the 
world, and he cited an instance where a man bought some two 
hundred, which had been taken from the tribe as a fine for some 
offence, and sold. Within a week after the purchase, there was 
not even a cow’s tail left of the herd, and I thought of some of 
our chicken experiences down home. 

I almost missed my dinner to-night, because there was some¬ 
thing new on in the way of a sunset. We were just abreast of 
Cape Guardafui when the sun went down behind it. The head¬ 
lands just to the south are quite high and much like Table Moun¬ 
tain at Cape Town. This plateau rises abruptly from the sea to 
a height of 2,000 feet. The face is scarred and tom as by some 
seething fire. Mr. Chissold aptly likened it to the ragged edge 
of the world, but all this was etherialized as the sun went down. 
The mountain itself was cloud-capped, and black patches of 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


91 


cloud were scattered over tlie entire western sky. The sunset 
differed from any other I have ever seen, in that the ciouds did 
not take on one touch of color, hut turned from the snow-white 
of the early evening to a blue-black at twilight, and these as¬ 
sumed fanciful shapes against a crimson sky. The sky was not 
crimson in places or in strata, as is so often the case, but one 
solid glow, deep, intense, like the robe of a cardinal. And 
against this royal perspective the silver stars shone out. 

We had the fancy dress ball on board last night, and it was a 
most enjoyable affair. The presence of so many Arabs and In¬ 
dians made it possible to fit up some elaborate costumes. Mrs. 
Benson was gotten up as an Eastern Princess, and she looked the 
part, but the first prize went to “Eatima,” much to old Blue¬ 
beard’s satisfaction. She was dressed as a baby. Mr. Sterling 
was happily fitted up as a Bacchus, and acted the part well, 
even to the extent of kissing another man’s wife; a thing no one 
but Bacchus would dare to do in public. The Parson looked 
superb as a Parsee, and had the sun been shining he no doubt 
would have given less attention to the bewitching Gretchen. 
Under the circumstances, however, he was quite the same old 
Parson, save for the dress. Herr Schilling was stately as the 
Shiek A1 Raschid, and was surrounded by a goodly number of 
willing slaves, of both sexes. Mr. Best, however, won the gen¬ 
tleman’s prize, and he was certainly most handsomely dressed 
as an Arab. The program of the dance was well arranged, and 
the deck in splendid condition, but unfortunately I am still a 
little seedy, so did not take any active part in the fun. 

The feature of the evening, however, was the “Cafe Bauer,” 
like its namesake in “Under den Linden,” Berlin. The smok¬ 
ing room was fitted up beautifully with flags, and the saloon deck 
was brilliant with bunting and paper lanterns. The scene was 
something to remember, and every one had a good time. Our 
captain is very jovial, and enters heartily into all amusements. 
Last night when we were in the Cafe Bauer he entertained us 
with a German drinking song with a chorus of, “Oh jerum, 
jerum, jerum, Oh quae mutatio rerum!” Everybody was sleepy 
this morning, but I was up as usual and spent the morning in 
the engine room with the chief engineer. An engine room of a 
steamship has been described so often that I shall pass it up as 
there were no experiences. The captain just told me we would 


92 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


be in Aden at 11 o’clock to-night, and leave at 6 in the morning. 
I am sorry, as that will make it impossible to visit the town, 
unless we make a night of it as we did at Las Palmas. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

ADEH AXD BAB-IL-MANDEB. 

We thought Cape Guardefui was the ragged edge of the world, 
but found it was but the “selvedge,” compared to the mountains 
at Aden. We saw the headland under the most happy circum¬ 
stances last night as we came into the bay. A big bright moon 
was shining just behind it, and every jutting crag and cone-like 
peak was brought out as clearly as jet black against silver could 
be. In general shape it was much like Gibraltar when first seen, 
but that was when the lower peaks were hidden by higher ones, 
so the actual crest line could not be seen. Soon as we rounded 
to in the harbor the likeness was lost, for Gibraltar rises with 
almost a smooth line to the highest point, and ends abruptly, 
whilst the headland at Aden is the ending of a range of moun¬ 
tains running apparently up the entire coast of the Red Sea on 
the Arabian side. Just before we came to the anchor we had a 
great treat in the way of a bit of lime-light effect. A heavy 
cloud drifted down over the mountain, shutting out every ray of 
moonlight, except a shaft which lit up the water just at its base. 
Judge, if you can, the wonderful picture which was made when 
a Dhow under sail drifted slowly into this silver radiance. It 
looked as if it had been gotten up specially for our benefit. 

I found we were not to sail to-day until 9 A. M., so Mr. Clis- 
sold, Mr. Gillison and myself were up at 4 P. M., ready for an 
early excursion on shore. By dint of much yelling on the part 
of the policeman that was on board to keep order among the men 
engaged in coaling ship, which, by the way, he failed to do, we 
managed to get a boat, and about 5 o’clock we were on the shore 
of “Araby the blest.” It was not long before we realized the 
fact that we were at last in the East of the Bible story, for the 
first sight that greeted our eyes was a string of camels ladened 



MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


93 


with wood, moving along the road in ghostly silence. Steamer 
Point, where we landed, is about five miles from town, so we had 
to look about us for a conveyance for the trip. We tried to pre¬ 
vail upon our driver to hook up a camel instead of the steed (?) 
he brought us, so that we could travel in the pure Eastern style, 
with the fourteenth century improvement in the way of the car¬ 
riage furnished us, hut were informed that “only niggers drove 
camels,” and “that white gentlemen always had horses.” 1 
asked him why an exception was made in our case, and fear I 
hurt his feelings, for he was evidently driving that goat under 
hypnotic influence and felt convinced it was an Arabian charger. 

I offered him a half crown for the beast, thinking he would enact 
the role of that famous Arab, whom I used to shed tears over 
when I was a boy, and say, “Take back your gold,” but I came 
near having a had bargain on my hands. We drove along the 
moonlit road, past camels and donkeys, droves of them, some 
ladened with a sort of fodder, others with bales and boxes piled 
to a monumental height. There was a man perched on the top of 
one of these towers. He never clung to that pile while the camel 
got up from his knees, for I tried it once without any impedi¬ 
ments. I was also in an earthquake at Cario one time, and have 
never been able to distinguish between the two, except by the 
smell. That fellow either used a ladder and climbed up, or else 
a tree and dropped down. We followed a serpentine road up the 
mountain; one side walled and in excellent condition, (an evi¬ 
dence that the red flag of old England floats here,) and then 
passed through a kloof, partly natural and partly made. This 
is bridged over the top, and was most picturesque, as it was 
clearly defied against the red sky of the dawn. Just as we 
drove into the gloom of this tunnel-like place our ears were as¬ 
sailed by the most awe-inspiring roars I ever listened to. These 
awful sounds were coming from the pit of darkness, into which 
the unregenera Son of Abdalla was recklessly driving us. I 
asked him if he would not kindly stop and let me out, as I was 
very anxious to obtain a view from the top, and that I preferred 
to go over instead of through. Whilst Abdul was trying to ex¬ 
plain that the side of the mountain was perfectly straight up 
and down just at this point, and that a goat, even his goat Bish- 
milla, could not climb it, the cause of all this desire on my part 
to break my neck, made its appearance, and proved to be a camel.. 


94 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


1 asked Abdul what the dickens that beast meant by kicking up 
such a row at that hour of the night, and was told that it was a 
quiet way the camel had of protesting against an overload. It 
may he all right, but I am in for a “night camel” just as sure as 
I go to bed and am going to mistake it for about seventeen raven¬ 
ous man-eating Nubian lions in full pursuit of me. 

We passed through the kloof, and could look down upon the 
sleeping city, which was still in the gloom, although the sky was 
tinted with the glow of early dawn. The town looked like lumps 
of loaf sugar scattered in the bottom of some gigantic saucer, 
whose edges were notched worse than a New England pie. Run¬ 
ning along, and up one side of this saucer-like hill, were the 
tank fronts, which are the most interesting features of Aden. 
These tanks are thirty in number, and were discovered and re¬ 
stored in 1856. No one knows just when they were originally 
built. The guide-books say all the way from 200 to 2,000 years 
before Christ, and one of the guides assured me they were built 
600 years before Adam’s time, but I question the accuracy of 
this information. We drove down through the still sleeping 
town, and saw where the people were lying on the sidewalks, or 
on rough camp beds, drapped in their white sheets, which serve 
as the complete dress during the day. The occasional bray of 
a donkey, bleat of a goat, or graon of a camel indicated the rest¬ 
lessness of the coming day; and from time to time we would see 
a sleepy-eyed black Senegambian, or yellow Arab, unwrap his 
sheet and join the waking world. By the time we reached the 
park enclosure at the tanks we had a drove of half-naked sore¬ 
eyed Samolis howling about us, wanting to be our guides. I 
instituted a sort of civil service examination here just for the 
purpose of ascertaining the qualifications of the average guide 
in these parts. Our candidate had an English vocabulary of 
just nine words, two of which were doubtful, but he beat his 
competitors by three words, and we accepted his services. Of 
course he was a very great assistance to us. He called our spe¬ 
cial attention to the largest tank. This is built to hold only 
something like a half million gallons, and we would likely have 
missed it, as our pathway was fully ten feet from the railing. 
He also called our attention to a well of salt water 150 feet 
deep. I scarcely think we would have missed this, as we had to 
walk around to keep from falling into it. In fact, his services 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


95 


were quite uncalled for here, as there were nine heathen gathered 
about this point of interest, each with a handful of rocks ready 
to drop into the well to prove the depth. (Price 12 annas per 
rock.) If we had been in an investigating mood we would have 
cut down the actual depth of that well about three feet, but we 
positively declined to he convinced unless they would throw our 
guide in and let us time his descent. Haroun al Raschid (that 
was the guide) said this was impossible, as he had to be on deck 
when the sun came up because of religious obligations, at least 
this was near as we could get at it by the sign language. 

Just about this time we became unconscious of all things save 
the beauty of the scene, for the sun had touched the rugged 
peaks with a rosy glow, while we were still in the shadow. It 
was a breathless moment and fortunately the guide had sense 
enough to keep quiet. Had he ventured to utter but one of those 
nine precious words just then, the gates of Paradise would have 
opened suddenly for him. By keeping our eyes on this glowing 
edge we could easily imagine the old volcanic fires were once 
more alight, and I caught myself looking timidly into the valley 
only to see the white, quiet town resting where once burned the 
awful volcano, which would have made Vesuvius look like the 
fire in the bedroom of an English hotel. 

We watched the sun’s rays come down the sides of the moun¬ 
tain, dispelling the mysterious shadows, which had haunted 
them. Watched the glorious light gild the minerets, while the 
priest chanted the morning prayer of “Lailaha ill Allah,” fol¬ 
lowed by the Moslem “Te Deum Ladamus,” which is so beauti¬ 
ful I must quote it here. “Praise to God, Sovereign of the Uni¬ 
verse, the Merciful, the Compassionate, Sovereign at the day 
of judgment. It is Thou whom we adore. It is Thou of whom 
we implore thy aid. Direct us in the straight path, in the nar¬ 
row path of those whom Thou hast heaped with Thy benefits. 
Of those who have not deserved Thy wrath and who go not 
astray. Amen.” 

We drove down to the town from the tanks, and found the 
dry goods boxes, with the sides knocked out, open and ready for 
business. All sorts of unknown forrage was shown for sale, set 
out in fibre baskets and on grass mats, but I did not see one 
familiar thing except some rice and a few dates. All else was 
strange to me and seemed to be a variety of dried split peas and 


96 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


onion seed. We also saw great round cheese-shaped cakes, which 
we were told were sweets, but they looked more like a bad quan¬ 
tity of glue, mixed with Raritan river clay. It is a good thing 
December 25th has no significance for these people, for no sane 
child would forego the pleasure of being bad for three months, 
simply to get a stocking full of that stuff on Christmas morning. 

The air was fragrant with an incense, which was burning in 
braziers held on the tripods, and there was one of these in nearly 
every booth. I caught myself listening for the “Vobis Vobis- 
cum.” We visited the camel market, and saw the beasts kneel¬ 
ing to be loaded and unloaded, the greatest commodity seem¬ 
ingly was a scrub brush. A camel with a load of this looks like 
an animated hay stack from a distance. This is sold for fire¬ 
wood, and is very expensive, as it is brought from a great dis¬ 
tance, and is peddled out in even smaller quantities than is 
usually dealt in by a Third avenue wood merchant. 

The whole place is one great rock, and if by any chance some 
green thing in the way of a tree finds a crevice with soil, enough 
to lodge in and take root, they immediately fence it in and make 
a public park of it. I never saw such tender solicitude given to 
any inanimate thing before, as was shown the trees at Aden. 
There were strange sights greeting us on all sides, and we had 
to threaten Abdul (we called him that but I firmly believe his 
name was Sam Johnson, for he was just a plain, old-fashioned 
negro with a white sheet over his head, and an unchristian 
lingo) with swift and certain destruction, both here and here¬ 
after, if he did not drive slowly so that we could see the show. 
At one place they were filling water barrels that were fitted on 
two-wheel carts, drawn by camels hooked up between a pair of 
shafts, and I do not think I ever saw a more incongruous sight. 
A camel with a small warehouse full of dry goods boxes piled on 
him, or even loaded with an ordinary ten cords of scrub brush 
is all right, but a camel in shafts just like a mean little kicking. 
Alabama mule, is a libel on all our preconceived notions of what 
a camel should be, and I for one protest against it. 

Another strange sight was the city rock crusher. The com¬ 
mercial spirit in me was immediately alive as soon as I saw the 
rock pile, but alas there was no Babbit metal used there, for 
instead of a “Ro. 66 Gates,” they had about thirty natives pick¬ 
ing up one stone and breaking another with it, unless they broke 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


97 


their hammer, in which case they hunted around (slowly) for 
another of suitable hardness and proper shape. Then came the 
loading into the camel carts, which was also a feature. This was 
done by picking up the broken stone, piece at a time, with the 
fingers, putting them gently into a mat about the shape and size 
of a Panama hat, and then dumping it carefully into the cart. 
You know surely “if time was money” these people would make 
Williams and Walker seem poverty-stricken. 

We turned off from the main road at the rock crusher, just as 
a caravan came in, loaded with skins. These beasts had com¬ 
pleted a journey of six days over the desert, and the sight of 
their destination must have been a welcome thing. We did not 
return to Steamer Point by the same route we came, hut went 
through a series of three whitewashed tunnels, cut through the 
solid rock. One of these was quite a third of a mile long and 
came out on the beach. Here another strange sight was pre¬ 
sented. This was the sprinkling cart, and consisted of some half 
dozen boys with great pigskin bags, which they carried down 
into the sea, filled, slung over their shoulders and then ran along 
the road, flirting the open end from side to side. The job was 
done well and quickly, strange to say. 

The trip was ended, and I shall put it side by side with my 
visit to Zanzibar, as being one to be thought about long years 
hence. We reached the ship just as the whistle blew, and did 
not have any time to waste. We found the gangway surrounded 
by a gang of howling bumboat merchants, with ostrich feathers 
in fans, plumes and boas, shell necklaces, for which they asked 
five shillings and sold for one. Fibre work-baskets, pipes, to¬ 
bacco and cigarettes were also in stock. These people did a 
thriving business, as really good bargains were to be gotten; 
especially in the feather line, and the dining saloon looked like 
a Sixth avenue shop at breakfast time. I hurried up on deck 
after breakfast for I did not want to lose one glimpse of the pic¬ 
turesque place. I amused myself with the glass for a time, locat¬ 
ing the fortifications. They are everywhere, and seem impreg¬ 
nable, perched as they are, on inaccessable peaks. I am sure the 
corporal of the guard must use a baloon when he relieves post, 
for a goat could not climb to some of these sentry stations. This 
is a most important strategic position, second only to Gibraltar, 
and, of course, is owned and carefully guarded by England. It 
is also an important commercial post. 


98 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


Our ship took on seven hundred tons freight, about half of 
from this port. It has a splendid harbor, and is a port of call 
from this port. It has a splendid harbor, and is a port of caU 
for nearly every vessel passing through the Red Sea. We 
threaded our way out from a bunch of English, French and Ger¬ 
man steamers, and laid our course for the Straits of Bab-el- 
Mandeb and the Red Sea. Another dream of my childhood is 
about to be realized, and I find myself giving reverent utter¬ 
ance to the words, a God is good, and I am specially blessed in 
many respects.” We passed some of the most unusual forma¬ 
tions during the first two hours after leaving Aden. At one 
place a peak came up out of the sea and formed a perfect picture 
of a ruined Rhine castle. There was the crumbling turret, and 
time-worn battlements; and at one place what seemed to he the 
great banquet hall, with the roof fallen in. I quite allowed my¬ 
self to imagine it really was an old castle, and had at one time 
been the stronghold of some old fierworshipping Persian, when 
they raided this country 2,600 years ago. 

This castle-like formation was only one of the many strange 
freaks of the great upheaval. There were cone-like peaks; 
some of them with rakish tops as if they had been out late the 
night before. Two or three looked as if they had gigantic 
Malay hats on, and these were positively funny. I watched the 
shore for miles as we steamed through the Gulf of Aden, and it 
was beautiful, but it was with a beauty of rugged sky lines and 
atmospheric tints, for when a cloud would throw a shadow on the 
mountains and dispel the gassamer web of color, we saw only 
the barren sun-scorched rock, utterly devoid of anything in the 
way of verdure. At 5 :30 we passed through the straits past 
the Island of Perim and were in the Red Sea. We could see 
the shores of Africa quite plainly, and the mountains on the 
Arabian coast were glorified by the rays of the setting sun. I 
never saw solid land look so unreal as these mountains did. 
Eilmy-like clouds hung above them, and it was impossible to tell 
which was the cloud except by estimating the height. The sea 
was like a sheet of undulating glass, which caught the yellow 
and crimson glow of the western sky. The great African moun¬ 
tain peak of Raheiba, cone-shaped and 6,000 feet high, threw 
its shadow out over the water as the sun went down behind it. 
It was a scene long to be remembered, and I can understand why 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


99 


the devout Mohammedan gives utterance to the prayer, “Al- 
hamdu lillah rabi il alamina.” No one could look upon the 
world, as it appeared to-night, without a word of praise and 
thanksgiving to the Almighty. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE RED SEA. 

I slept late this morning, hut came on deck in time to see the 
Island of Diebel Suikim, and this will he about the last land we 
will sight until Mount Sinai comes into view. We are in the 
great highway of the East. Steamships are constantly passing 
us outward hound to India or South African ports, and some¬ 
times we overhaul some slow cargo steamer, and soon leave her 
behind. We hid farewell to the Southern Cross this morning 
at 4:30, hut our old friend “the dipper” has taken its place, and 
the North Star is with us once more. Somehow I never feel far 
from home when I can see this particular star, and I suppose it 
has the same comforting influence upon everyone living where 
it shines. We passed not far from the famous port of “Jidda” 
to-day. This is where the vast hordes of the “Faithful ? land, 
en route to Mecca, which lies inland about 60 miles from the 
coast. During the holy month (December, I think,) over 
25,000 Mohammedans make this trip for the purpose of secur¬ 
ing the green sash. This is a sure passport to Paradise, and 
gives them the right to become Mormons in the other world, 
without any interference from the United States. 

We have quite a number of pilgrims on hoard going to Mecca, 
by way of Suez. I am told there is a steady stream of these 
seekers of trouble (more wives than one) constantly moving 
toward this, to them, fountain of all good. 

We are sailing along this most beautiful of summer seas. 1 he 
weather superb and plenty of company in the way of ships and 
porpoises. These fish are very funny fellows. I often go out 
on the bow of the ship and watch them play under foretort. 
Sometimes a half dozen of these bad hoys of the deep (they are 
LcfC, 



100 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


always playing leap-frog), will dash in front of the ship’s cut¬ 
water, and go scurrying off in a regular game of tag. It is 
amusing to watch them turn and look over their shoulder, then 
leap clear of the water to get out of the way of the monster pur¬ 
suing them. This would go on for perhaps ten minutes, then 
they would shake their tails in farewell to us. About 8 P. M. 
we passed through a mass of sea phosphorescence, and while 
passing through, a dozen or more porpoises kept ahead of the 
ship. These fish were literally clothed in a silver radiance 
which seemed to slip off them in the form of silver cords strung 
with diamonds. Every movement was distinct, and the effect 
was startling when they would leap clear of the water. The 
ship, in the meantime, was throwing out great furrows of molten 
silver-like waves, and one could easily understand the Greek 
conception of Neptune and his silver chariot. Given a long 
beard and tridant and there is no telling to what length my 
imagination would have carried me. 

This has been a restful day. Mr. Nicoll preached an inter¬ 
esting sermon this morning, first reading the 107th Psalm, and 
taking for his text, “They who go down to the sea in ships.” He 
drew some clever word pictures of the sea, and offered up a sin¬ 
cere prayer of thanksgiving to God for our health and safety. 

I have observed the phenomena of the Red Sea during the 
past three evenings and this morning at sunrise. It is truly a 
strange sight to note the waters assume a blood-red color during 
the after-glow at sunset and sunrise. Herr Sickel tells me it is 
generally conceded to be caused by a re-reflection of the desert 
sands. Two nights ago it would have been gruesome if it had 
not been so beautiful. The sea was smooth, except for a gentle 
swell, and one side of these small wavelets were literally blood- 
red. 

We had quite a pleasant entertainment last night in the din¬ 
ing saloon. Mr. De Villiers gave an exhibition of slight of 
hand, mind reading and spirit writing on slates, which was ex¬ 
tremely clever. People going to Cairo have begun to get their 
baggage up, and have been busy this afternoon packing up. The 
old ship will be deserted at Port Said, as nearly two-thirds of 
the passengers leave us there. We had a delightful farewell 
dinner this evening. Herr Wilken made a speech in German 
thanking the captain for his great courtesy and thoughtfulness, 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


101 


and presented him with a letter of kindly expression, signed by 
all the passengers. This was followed by a happy speech in 
English, in behalf of the English and American contingent, by 
Mr. Gillison. The captain then replied, saying it had been one 
of the most pleasant voyages he has ever made, and expressed 
the hope that we would journey with him again before he fin¬ 
ished his journeyings on the briny deep. Toasts to the ladies 
followed, and general good fellowship prevailed. 

Late to-night we sighted the lighthous at Has Mohammed, 
the entrance of the Gulf of Suez, and w r e will be at the canal 
entrance by 9 o’clock to-morrow. I must get to bed promptly, 
as I will get up in the morning at 5 o’clock in hopes of seeing 


Mt. Sinai as we pass. 

I was up early this morning and called on Herr Boppleman, 
only to find we had passed Mt. Sinai about two hours before. 
Of * course I could not have seen it if I had been on deck, for it 
was still dark; unless some of the lightning, which played such 
a prominent part in the world’s history some years since, had 
been in evidence. Herr Boppleman was kind enough to let me 
examine the chart showing depth of water and distances at this 
place. We figured out that the Children of Israel must have 
left the Egvptian coast at Has aha Baka, and landed on the 
Sheratib shoals, as this was the most likely place, hut if they 
did get over here, there must have been a St. Louis cyclone blow¬ 
ing in the way of an east wind for at least two weeks, to back 

up thirty-six fathoms of water. , 

We ran in quite close to the African shore, and watched the 
light of Zafarana flash out its warning, our pillar of fire to guide 
us to safety. Both shores are plainly visible, and show abrupt 
headlands jutting out into the gulf from the African side, and 
a low level beach with range of hills m the background on the 
Arabian side. I was much amused this morning by an incident 
which I think is worth telling. I have been up early and late 
for the last week or so because there was so much to see, and 
thought perhaps I would not wake up in time this morning so 
I told the night steward to call me about a quarter of an hour 
before sunrise. Fortunately, I went to bed with a fee mg 
uncertainty regarding the reliability of our German friend, and 
in consequence I awoke with the first rays of the morning peep¬ 
ing into my port; it was really later than I supposed, because 


102 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


the lower sky was hazy and the sun was up when I came on 
deck. I stayed up for about half an hour and went below for a 
heavier coat, as I had gotten chilled. As I was coming down 
the companion-way I met the steward and asked why he did not 
call me. He looked plaintively at me for a moment, and said, 
“Der sohn dit nod goom oop dis morgen, it vas gloudy yet.” 
Under the circumstances I could not have gotten angry, even if 
the offence had been much greater. 

I was surprised to note the change in temperature which had 
taken place during the night. Yesterday every one was wear¬ 
ing white clothes, and it is cold enough for an overcoat this 
morning, but the sky is clear as crystal and the air is tonicy. 
CHAPTER XXYI. 

SUEZ AND THE DREAM LAND. 

At 8 :30 we were at anchor off Tewfic Point, which is the port 
of Suez, and forms the left bank of the entrance to the canal. 
There is a fine anchorage here and a number of vessels are in 
port waiting their turn to go through. In fact, two troop ships, 
one English and one French, passed into the canal just as we 
came to anchor, and I know there were happy hearts on board 
because of thoughts of home and loved ones waiting to welcome 
the exiles. I have only been away from my native land seven 
months and feel as if I would give a leg to see something at 
home, even if it was only the water-front of Jersey City; whilst 
these lads have been away three years, and perhaps longer. Sev¬ 
eral people made arrangements to leave us and go on to Cairo 
from here by rail, but at the last moment all decided to go on to 
Port Said, except our two American friends, Maj. Clark, Mr. 
Sheardown and Mr. Jervice. Ho one went on shore to visit as 
the town is quite a distance from the landing and our stay short. 
There is really but little to see, as the town is modern in every 
particular, it having been only a very insignificant Arab settle¬ 
ment before the canal was cut through, and every trace of it has 
disappeared. Date trees seem numerous, and there is much 
green around the two towns, which makes a vivid contrast to the 
verdureless stretch of sand to be seen everywhere, and the ribbed 
and barren fronts of the mountains facing the bay. 

The canal people brought a complete electric light apparatus 
on board and fixed a powerful searchlight on the bow, and also 
sent pilots to take charge of the ship. The regular ship’s officers 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


103 


are relieved of all responsibilities during the passage, although 
they were on the bridge, as it is an interesting piece of naviga¬ 
tion. We got up anchor at 1:30 P. M. and were soon threading 
our way between the red and black buoys marking the channel. 
Until we were well into the canal these buoys were very close 
together, and I noticed lights were burning, red on black and 
green on red although it was midday. Herr Boppleman tells me 
they burn continually, and that acetylene gas is used. We passed 
a miserable looking settlement just before we entered the canal, 
and were fortunate enough to see a caravan of some thirty camels 
resting. It looked like one of the Eastern pictures which always 
seem so unreal. This canal is, beyond a doubt, the most interest¬ 
ing bit of uninteresting scenery in the world. A little two by 
six break-water defines the entrance, which opens out into a wide 
stretch of shallow water beyond. This is dredged and the canal 
marked for perhaps half a mile, and then we found the sand, 
which had been taken out of the canal proper, banked up on 
either side from 10 to 30 feet. “Wash walls” of stone are built 
to prevent the swirl of water from passing steamers cutting 
away the banks, but they had given way in many places, and 
presented a very ragged appearance. An endless expense for 
dredging, and we could see our back wash scooping out buckets 
full of sand and carrying it to the bottom. This must mean an 
awful expense for dredging, and I could not help thinking, that 
Pharoah would have made a better job of it had it been built in 
his day. 

We passed through the little bitter lake early in the afternoon 
and were in the midst of the great bitter lake when the sun went 
down. This latter is a splendid stretch of water, and gave us 
one more, and I suppose our last, view of a real glorious red 
sunset. 

“Royal the pegeant closes, lit by the last oi the sun—- 

Opal and ashes of roses, cinnamon, umber and dun.” 

With it all the purple hills in the distance and the blood-red 
stretch of water. I watched the last ray of light leave the sky 
before going to dinner, because I felt it. was my farewell to the 

Ve entered Lake Timsah about 10 o’clock and saw the lights 
of Ismali. This is the juncture of the railroad going to Cairo 
and is quite something of a town, but it was dark, and we could 


104 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


not see anything except the lights. The canal makes two sharp 
turns here, forming almost a right-angle triangle at the first, and 
making a sharp turn into the original course about a mile fur¬ 
ther on. Here the hanks are very high, and there were several 
clusters of huts, from the midst of which a light would some¬ 
times flash, showing they were inhabited. I am sorry we did 
not get here during the day, for it is an interesting place. The 
old caravan trail crossed here, over which the camels of Egypt 
and Syria bore their burdens of merchandise for thousands of 
years, and beyond a doubt the Queen of Sheba came this way on 
her visit to Solomon. In these days the wealth of the world 
moved from East to West, and now it goes from North to South, 
and instead of the ship of the desert, with its paltry burden of 
a few hundred pounds, it is the ship of the sea with its thousands 
of tons, which finds its way across these dreary sand wastes, 
and the “Gold of Ophir” is shipned from Durbab nnd Delagoa 
Bay, and “Ophir” is now called “The Transvaal.” 

Mental pictures sweep before me which are positively be¬ 
wildering, when I stop to think I have been looking over the 
land which gave birth to all the most cherished traditions. That 
just near here Hagar watched the same yellow sun go down and 
looked out over this same stretch of sand, and these same night- 
winds carried her prayers to the listening ear of her God. That 
just here Darius camped with his countless host, when he moved 
his army against Nebuchadnezzar, and the monument stones 
brought by his people at that time mark the spot to-day. That 
just beyond are the ruins of “Tel abu Sez,” and what is left of 
the Temple of Isis, built by Bamises the Second. Less than 
sixty miles to the west is the monument he built for himself, 
which has outlasted the temple he built to his god. Sleep was 
impossible and I spent the night in the waking dream, seeing 
visions of things long past, and of people long since dead, but 
whose names will live forever. Daylight came at last and 
brought me up out of the dreamland I had been wandering in 
for hours. The pictures were slow to leave the mental vision, 
and would doubtless have lingered yet a little longer had I not 
seen an American windmill whirling in the most matter-of-fact 
and business-like twentieth century manner. Eor one moment 
I half believed I had been asleep and dreamed indeed, and was 
at home, for in the dim light of the early dawn the desert looked 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


105 


much lik a stretch of Kansas prairie land, but the sun came up 
and showed the same sea of sand it had shown on last night, 
except that Port Said was just ahead of us with its cluster of 
date palms to mark the water works at the end of the fresh water 
canal, which comes from the Kile and supplies the city. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

PORT SAID. 

We had moored by 8 o’clock and I had made the rounds, say¬ 
ing good bye to the good people who were leaving us here for 
Cairo. The parson, Mr. and Miss Gillison, Mr. and Mrs. Ered. 
Sichel, the doctor’s pretty student of German (poor fellow, how 
he will miss her; and she ? well it is sad, but such is life on a 
liner), and many others whom we are sorry to part from. Lieu¬ 
tenant Head, with his jolly laugh and his, “I mean to say,” will 
not be the least of these by any means, although I found him 
insufferable at first. His fun was genuine, and some of his wit 
worth recording. Last night, for instance, I remarked to him 
that our friend, the famous hunter, seemed to be quite success¬ 
ful with other game besides lions and rhino and buffalo. Quick 
as a flash came the reply, “Yes, I see he has captured a giraffe.” 
I might mention, in passing, that the lady is quite tall, in fact 
she stood beside the foremast the other day, and there was only 
six inches difference in the two shadows. Head declared the 
longest one belonged to the lady, but there he was wrong. Mr. 
Chissold and I hurried off the ship, and we were the first on 
shore. We were beset by the usual drove of would-be guides, and 
would have been pestered to death, no doubt, but I bought a red 
fez and I think they mistook me for one of their number with a 
victim in tow, for they let us alone afterward. We walked down 
to the end of the jetty and inspected the statue of De Lesep. It is 
a grand piece of work, and the attitude superb. The left hand 
holds the charter and the right points the way he has opened to 
the world, whereby the ships from Europe to India and the far 
East can save 4,000 miles. 



106 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


On our way back to the town we stopped and watched some 
fishermen make a cast with a net, but they were not as success¬ 
ful as the little company which cast their net at the command 
of the Master on the waters of Galilee, one morning two thou¬ 
sand years ago, for these people only gathered in about half a 
bushel of what looked like smelts. After leaving our fishermen 
we came upon a group of four children playing jacks, and 
watched them some minutes before they knew we were near. 
When they looked up and saw us you would have thought they 
were little brown chickens, with the shadow of the hawk over 
them, or a gang of Park Row newsboys playing craps when a 
blue-coat comes on the scene. They left the jack stones and 
watched us from a safe distance until we were well away. 

We hired a team and drove out through the native quarters, 
and for ramshackle, lopsided and bepatched habitations, this 
place is the worst I have ever struck. The first impression is 
that the houses had fallen down, and an earthquake had come 
along and shaken them into place again. There are, however, 
many fine buildings and many more in course of construction 
in the “new town,” and there is a general air of prosperity about 
the place. We drove out to the water works, and drank some of 
the Rile water, but decided that we much prefer a good brand of 
Munchener or Budweiser for a regular thing. Our enjoyment 
of it was purely sentimental, in that it was of about the same 
consistency as the Mississippi mixture at St. Louis. There is a 
station on the railroad just beyond the water works and we 
waited there to bid our friends bon voyage. When the train 
stopped I rapped on the window of one of the coaches and 
called out “all tickets please.” The parson looked out and mis¬ 
took me for one of the railroad officials, because of my red hat, 
and began to hustle for his pasteboard. There was another 
hearty handshake and exchange of good wishes, and then the 
final good bye. Mr. Chissold and I turned away rather sadly 
for we felt the old ship would seem deserted when we returned. 
Coming back from the water works we passed through the 
market, and I could not resist the tomatoes which were shown. 
Big fat fellows like they grow Ann Arundel, so I held up my 
imperial chariot and bought five pounds for six pence, which 
Mr. C. and I enjoyed very much for our lunch and dinner. 

Port Said seems to be rather a tough joint. We were assailed 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


107 


on all sides to buy filthy French pictures, and go where we would 
witness a Seely dinner dance, but I have seen enough of this sort 
of thing, and Mr. Chissold is a deacon of the Church, so we de¬ 
clined this part of the show. We came on board about 11 A. M. 
to find the ship all wrought up over a wholesale robbery. Some 
one had unlocked the cabin door and trunks of Mr. Sterling and 
Mr. Wilkins, and relieved the one of 25 and the other of 100 
pounds in gold. This is a great pity, as it has thrown a gloom 
over the whole ship, and spoiled in a measure what would other¬ 
wise have been a delightful trip. I heard of the clean sweep 
soon as I reachd the ship but did not feel worried personally, 
for they would not have gotten more than about 37 cents if they 
had cleaned me out At 12 :30 we slipped our cable and laid our 
course for Naples. In four days our journey will be ended, and 
by far the most interesting trip I have ever made will be fin¬ 
ished 

Just here let me say a good word for the good ship “Burger- 
meister,” her genial captain and courteous officers. The ship 
is a jolly old craft; steady and reliable as a right and proper 
Burgermeister should be. The state rooms are large and well 
looked after; comfortable baths and good barber service. A 
bright and airy dining saloon and excellent table, with courteous 
stewards in attendance, giving prompt service. This condition 
does not prevail in the first-class only. I was all through the 
second and third-class quarters also, and found everything well 
cared for, with plenty of good food well served, and no one can 
justly complain. Capt. Zemlin is a prince of good fellows, hav¬ 
ing the comfort and pleasure of his passengers constantly in 
mind. He is called upon to answer the usual silly questions 
from time to time, which would exasperate any less kindly man, 
but his good humor and patience seem inexhaustible. He is a 
sharp contrast to Capt. McKay, of the Cunard Line. McKay was 
standing forward one morning whilst we were on the banks in a 
heavy fog, looking as if his dinner had not even begun to digest, 
when a dear little New York belle, who could not read weather 
signs, but who had been used to having men get dizzy at the 
sound of her voice, ranged up alongside and asked: a Is it always 
foggy on the banks of the Newfoundland ?” He looked at her a 
moment, about as I fancy a hippo would look at a poor little 
timid gazelle, if it had the temerity to ask if the hippo ever 


108 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


smiled, for instance, and then he bellowed out, “I don’t live 
here,” and his voice sounded like an extra blast of the fog horn. 
Now, had this been our gallant Capt. Zemlin I am sure he would 
have left the band master at this point in an open boat, without 
water or food, giving him instructions to take careful observa¬ 
tions and report. (I do not know how to write, “I wish to the 
Lord he would,” in latin, so you are thereby saved the trouble 
of working out a translation.) 

I was going to close my remarks about the captain with the 
hope that his shadow may never grow less, but will wish him 
many successful voyages instead. Herr Bosselman is another 
jolly good fellow, full of “old salt” stories of days before the 
mast on American sailing ships, when he had to walk the deck 
during his watch, furl the royal alone, split the sails at night, 
which he had helped patch and bend the day before ; sleep in a 
wet bunk, eat salt horse and sing, “Times are hard and the 
wages low, leave her Johnny, leave her,” when the cruise was 
ended. 

It has been my good fortune to have Ilerr Bosselman at my 
table and many a short, crisp, well-told story of the sea has 
helped to make the dinner hours seem short. I am sure everyone 
on board joined me in the hope that he will soon have another 
gold stripe on his arm and that some of us may have the good 
fortune to sail with him when he commands a ship. Let me 
also say a good word for Herr Bonde, the chief engineer, to 
whom I am specially indebted for a pleasant visit to the engine 
room. I found everything as bright as the chief’s own sunny 
smile and everyone must appreciate the care and attention he 
has given to the “heart of the ship.” May his life run as 
smooth as do his engines. And the Herr Doctor. May the gods 
and the goddesses of the sea, especially the latter, watch over him, 
both because of his talents as a teacher of German to pretty 
Yankee school marms, and a teller of illustrated stories to the 
poor stupid men, who record the evidence of their stupidity in 
shorthand, but that will be told later. 

You will see that several lines have been scratched out here. 
I wrote them on the impulse of the moment, but found they were 
quite unfit for publication. The cause of it was this: Just as I 
finished saying nice things about the doctor, my ears were star¬ 
tled by a most unearthly, but quite usual sound, and my first 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


109 

impression was that our band was going to give an extra morn¬ 
ing concert on the lower deck. The illusion was further borne 
out by the rush of feet past my cabin, because the band’s begin¬ 
ning is a signal for people to seek the dark and silent places of 
the ship. My cabin was smelling of sulphur and I hurried on 
deck to find what I had mistaken for an effort to produce the 
Washington Post march, was in reality a call to boat drill, and 
all the boats were swinging clear of the ship, ready to take on 
hoard their quota of passengers if it was necessary to abandon 
ship. I am sorry I was not on deck so I could have seen the 
assembly of men and recorded the time. But in the excitement 
of the hand and boat drill, I must not forget to mention the other 
officers and the stewards, stewardess, and crew of our good ship. 
We all join in a hearty wish for their welfare and happiness. I 
will even venture to include the band in the general good wish, 
although it is the cause for me having to do pennance for the 
next six months. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

“AUF WIEDERSEHN.” 

At 11 A. M. the headland of Capt Spartivento broke through 
the mist, and we soon had a fine view of the rugged mountain 
range off Aspromonti. It is scarred by the fires that formed it, 
and seamed by the floods which have swept down its gorges since- 
it has been. The mountains come right down to the sea, and the 
little hamlets dotting the coast are very picturesque. The town 
of Melito is quite large and seemingly well built; with a splen¬ 
did church structure near the highest point. Just here I no¬ 
ticed what first had the appearance of being a grand river, hut I 
discerned it was the dry bed of a mountain stream, which must 
sweep down it with mighty force when the snow melts in the 
spring time, and when the midsummer floods come. They have 
built this wall from the edge of the ravine to the sea, so as to 
confine the water to its course. Later on I counted some twenty 
of these dry courses. When we came on deck after lunch we 
could see the outlines of Aetna, and it was not long before its 



110 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


snow-clad and smoke-covered summit was in full view. It was 
a sublime sight, and held us unconscious of the chill wind which 
swept down its sides and across the water to us. I turned away 
only when I had gotten chilled to the bone, and then was back 
again as soon as I could get my teeth to stay together. In the 
meantime we were running close to the mainland, and could note 
the line of railroad which winds around the little inlets, into 
tunnels cut through the spurs jutting into the sea, over the 
bridges built across the dry river bed, following the coast line 
and connecting the little town with the great world to the north, 
and carrying their wines and olives and fish to the market of 
Naples, and thence to the whole world. The face of the moun¬ 
tain seems to be cultivated to the summit. This is done by ter¬ 
race work, like it is on the Rhine, and the green vines covering 
the broken surface, and toning down the shadows by the many 
and deep gorges, together with the white birds’ nest-like houses, 
made a rare picture sufficient quite to bring us back promptly 
after we had looked for awhile at cloud-draped Aetna. We were 
soon abreast of Reggio, and found the mountain range had re¬ 
ceded just here, leaving a half sauce-like formation, in which 
the town is built. An old walled castle seems to be the centre of 
the town, while some very large buildings command a view from 
a rock-like eminence. Heavy fortifications are to be traced 
along the coast from Cape Del Armi to beyond Schylla, and 
could entertain an enemy that tried to pass the straits. Just 
back of Melito there is a rock formation which is most unique. 
It goes up like the sentinel rock in the Yosemite, and nestled at 
its very base is the quaintest of villages. Some one tells me it 
is deserted, but I do not believe this can be, for the buildings 
look as if they were well cared for. At 4:30 we were just be¬ 
tween Schylla and Charybdis, having enjoyed a splendid view 
of white-walled Messina. 

How, I shall not weary you with the detailed story of my fu¬ 
ture journeying. You know how my heart was thrilled when I 
passed almost within the shadows of Mount Ida, and when I 
gazed upon the snow-clad summit of Aetna. Then came the 
saphire-tinted, diamond-crested waters in the straits of Messini; 
old Stromboli, its sides and crown marked by the fires of count¬ 
less ages and still active. The next morning I watched the 
smoke gather as a bridal veil about the head of Vesuvius, whilst 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 


Ill 


the sun lifted the shadows of the night from the beautiful Bay 
of Naples, throwing a halo even over the grim St. Elmo. I am 
almost tempted to tell you something of our climb to the sum¬ 
mit of “hell’s main smokestack,” and of the wonderful view 
which lay spread beneath us, but brilliant writers have dwelt 
with this and it would be presumption for me to even express 
a thought on the subject. The following day we walked the 
streets of Pompeii, viewing with interest the marks of time 
which tell us this city was old, old, old! long before the rush of 
ashes blotted it out from amongst the cities of the world. The 
worn fountain rims, ruts cut deep in the stone by chariot wheels 
and last of all what seems the justification for its destruction (I 
refer to the vile pictures and statuary which adorned the homes 
of the wealthy Pompeiina, many of which are still shown with 
colors as fresh as if they had been painted out recently, and 
marble as white as if it had just been carved). What a pity 
such immortal work should he so utterly immoral. It is a relief 
to turn my thoughts from the “dead city,” with its sad memo¬ 
ries, to beautiful Capri and that rarest of all earthly hits of 
coloring, the “blue grotto.” When one leaves it the question 
arises in the mind, was it not a dream ? Can anything be so 
beautiful and real ? A stop for a few minutes at dear old Sor¬ 
rento, where twenty odd years ago a little dark-eyed beauty 
sang my heart away from me whilst she leaned from one of the 
quaint old windows overlooking the sea. I could have gone to 
the same window and have gotten sentimental over it, but there 
was another dark-eyed one that was still more beautiful. She 
had made a later conquest of my fickle heart and I had to re¬ 
serve my sentiment, although the aforesaid dark-eyed beauty 
was having desperate love made to her just then by a good look¬ 
ing German lieutenant, 

A few days in Kome, where I again feasted my eyes on the 
marvels of the Sistine Chapel and the glories of St. Peter’s. 
Touched reverently the bronze foot partly worn away by the lips 
of the faithful as they press them to it, murmuring a prayer. 
Down into the gloom of the Marmatine prison, where Peter and 
Paul lay chained, out by the Appian way to the spot where 
“Quo Vaids, Domine” was spoken, hack to the ruins of the 
Coliseum, then through crumbling arches of the palace of Tibe¬ 
rius and the halls of a later palace built over the forgotten and 


112 


MY TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA. 



■wholly buried ruins of the former. The hundred marble steps, 
which brought about the reformation and changed the religion 
of the world, the tomb of Hadrian overlooking the Tiber, and 
the spot where Horatio stood when he “plunged headlong in the 
tide.” The fountain of Treve and its basin, into which we 
tossed a penny, hoping and in a measure believing, in the super¬ 
stition that fate will bring about the return to Home of anyone 
who throws a coin into the mystic font. 

Farewell to Rome, and a prayer that we may come back again 
some day, for after all it is the “heart of the world.” A short 
stay in Florence and a visit to the Medici chapel. The greatest 
collection of rare mosaics in the world, I suppose; a moment by 
the Arno and on to Milan; a glimpse of the Cathedral and of 
de Vinci’s great work; a dash through Switzerland, past snow- 
clad Pilatus and the Rigi gleaming ghost-like in the winter 
sun ; down through the plains of Alsace and Lorraine; on to gay 
little Brussels; then to brilliant Paris; from thence to smoky 
old London; a day in Glasgow, another in Edinburgh, where I 
stood with bowed head for a moment at the tomb of Scott. A few 
days later I stood on the deck of the Etruria, saying farewell to 
a number of good friends, who had come down to the dock to 
bid us “Godspeed for home.” 


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